


This Dark Road Will Lead Us Where We Want to Be

by accordingtomel



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic Revealed, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-11
Updated: 2012-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-29 08:39:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 90,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accordingtomel/pseuds/accordingtomel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a visiting noble attacks Arthur with the intent to kill, Merlin is forced to openly use magic to save his life. With execution less than twenty-four hours away, a desperate Arthur tricks Merlin into binding their souls in order to prevent his death as a sorcerer. But the soul-bond has some unexpected consequences, and when Uther demands that Arthur unbind his soul so he can carry on with the execution, the two set out on a journey to find answers. Along the way they deal with the ramifications of Merlin's deception, discover some truths about their growing feelings for one another, and are forced to make some huge decisions that could have an impact on their lives forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [paperlegends](http://paperlegends.livejournal.com/) _Merlin_ Big Bang challenge in 2010. A million thanks to [adelagia](http://adelagia.livejournal.com/) who acted as my cheerleader, beta, counsellor, and so much more. She helped me brainstorm ideas in the beginning, sort through problems along the way, listened to me whine and complain and talk about this fic non-stop for about four months, sent me postcards and chocolate to encourage me, and of course, was one of my betas. Many thanks, as well, to my lovely friend [awakencordy](http://awakencordy.livejournal.com/) who provided me with betas for the porn, and assured me that I wasn’t screwing it up royally! Thanks hon :). Also, I owe a huge thank you to [lemniciate](http://lemniciate.livejournal.com/), who provided me with a very thorough beta, and to the [ficfinishing](http://ficfinishing.livejournal.com/) community for supporting me for 3 months while I wrote the first draft.

* * *

**This Dark Road Will Lead Us Where We Want to Be**

He waited, perched in a tree, covered by the shadow of a slowly fading night. The cold chilled his bones, but he neither felt nor cared about that minor detail. He had more important things on his mind, namely keeping an eye on the trail, eagerly anticipating the travellers he knew were on their way. There was only so much time left before everything would finally fall into place.

He’d been patient for so long; the thrill of the impending hunt coursing through his veins like the steady beat of a drum pounding against his skull. It was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure -- the knowledge that years' worth of planning and waiting were about to culminate into a few very short moments, while the satisfaction of a job well done would last for the rest of his life.

It was simple. Painfully simple, almost. And the best part was knowing that there would be no one to stop him.

Cracking his knuckles with purposeful calculation, he sat back and turned his eyes to the road once more.

It would not be long now.

*****

Light streamed through the small slit in the curtains when Arthur Pendragon climbed out of bed that morning. It was still early, he knew, but he’d been having a hard time sleeping after waking from a series of bad dreams. He wouldn’t go so far as to call them nightmares, but they were bothersome enough that Arthur wasn’t able to get back to sleep following the most recent one. Instead he’d lain awake, staring up at the ceiling, until finally giving up on the hope of sleeping again.

He eventually sat up, tossing aside the covers and stretching his tired muscles. A moment later, Arthur slid off the edge of the bed, feet hitting the cold stone floor with a light slap. Padding his way over to the windows, he began to draw back the curtains, allowing the first of the morning’s rays to filter into the room.

Merlin wouldn’t be arriving soon, Arthur knew, even if he somehow decided to show up on time for once. So that left Arthur to his own devices. He considered going out for an early morning training session, which usually helped on nights when he wasn’t able to sleep. But he would then require a bath afterwards, and Merlin was slow enough in the morning with his breakfast as it was, never mind giving him the added pressure of preparing a bath.

Instead, he dressed, tidied up his chambers (someone had to do it, after all), and decided to read a book. It’d been sitting on his shelf for months, or possibly even years, and he’d always wanted to read it, but just never found the time. Contrary to what some people thought, Arthur was not entirely boorish and did, in fact, enjoy reading a good story on occasion. And seeing as he was pointedly trying not to dwell too much on the previous night’s dreams, this seemed like the perfect temporary distraction.

The minutes passed by quickly, and soon Arthur found his stomach was beginning to growl.

Much to Arthur’s great surprise, Merlin actually arrived in his chambers on time, and with a freshly prepared breakfast, which was an added bonus. Arthur was impressed. Then he reminded himself that this was what _normal_ servants did on a regular basis, and tried to quell the small surge of appreciation that’d suddenly welled up within him.

However, it was quickly apparent as his manservant entered the room that in spite of his timely arrival, not all was well with him. In a nutshell, Merlin truly looked a sorry sight: rumpled clothes, hair sticking up in every which direction, and bags under his eyes.

Merlin eyed him with mild curiosity, smiling nonetheless. “Since when do you read?”

But Arthur had other thoughts on his mind. “What the hell happened to you?” he asked, with his usual air of sensitivity as he placed the book down on the table beside him.

Merlin shot him a glare as he shut the door with the kick of a foot. “Good morning to you too, sire,” he said, voice laced with sarcasm. “You’re looking well. How did you sleep last night?”

Arthur tried not to roll his eyes at Merlin’s insolence, reaching for the pair of boots he planned to wear today instead, forgotten previously. “Not well,” he answered, even though the question had been asked in jest. “But better than you, it would appear.”

Merlin stared at him disbelievingly, frozen in place on the floor as he balanced Arthur’s breakfast tray on one hand. “I didn’t realise you cared.”

“I don’t,” Arthur said, waving a hand dismissively, as if it were a preposterous idea. But then, just to entirely disprove his point, added, “So, what happened?”

Merlin shrugged half-heartedly and started laying out Arthur’s breakfast for him. “Nothing really. I just couldn’t sleep.”

“Looks like more than just not sleeping to me,” Arthur remarked, because he certainly didn’t care one way or the other.

“Well, it was a combination of not sleeping and having terrible nightmares when I did manage to fall asleep.” Merlin shrugged again. “It wasn’t the greatest night, but I’ve had worse.”

Arthur finished slipping on his boots and turned his attention back to Merlin. Pointing at Merlin’s chest and then hair he raised a single brow in question. “That still doesn’t explain why you look like you just came back from dallying around with a tornado.”

A large plate filled with fruit and cheese and bread was set down in front of Arthur, and Merlin’s lips quirked slightly in response. “Well, I finally managed to fall asleep a couple of hours ago and when I woke up, I panicked, because I thought I was late. So I sort of jumped out of bed, raced to the kitchens, and now I’m here.”

“And you sleep in your clothes...?”

Merlin expelled a longsuffering sigh, as if explaining the madness of his mind was such a tedious chore. “Of course not. I dressed several hours ago when I thought I wasn’t going to be able to fall back asleep. It just so happened that I _did_ manage to sleep again and I wasn’t about to change just for that.”

Well, it made sense if one was well schooled in Merlin-logic, which Arthur happened to be. With a shrug of his own, Arthur reached out and plucked a piece of cheese off the platter in front of him, gesturing for Merlin to take a seat across the table. Merlin sat obediently, never one to refuse free food, though Arthur technically hadn’t offered yet. “I suppose I can accept that, even if your reasoning is inherently flawed.”

Merlin scoffed, but he smiled fondly at Arthur anyway. “So, what about you?”

“What _about_ me?”

Merlin’s eyes narrowed into a glare. “You said you didn’t sleep well either. How come?”

“Oh. I also had nightmares last night. Nothing too bad, though,” he said, purposely downplaying their impact so as to not unnecessarily worry Merlin. He had a penchant for overreacting to things.

“So, you had nightmares last night, and _I_ had nightmares last night,” Merlin muttered, scrunching up his face thoughtfully.

Arthur stared at him. “And you say it like that because...?”

“No reason.” He paused, and then, “But do you think it means anything?”

Arthur considered this for a moment. It was possible, he supposed, though far more likely that it was nothing more than a coincidence. It wasn’t as if it was uncommon for people to have bad dreams. “No. Only that we probably spend too much time together,” Arthur decided, shooting a smirk in Merlin’s direction.

Merlin looked over at him, affecting a false air of seriousness. “Yes, well, we’ll have to do something about that then, won’t we?”

Arthur tapped his chin thoughtfully, as though in a state of deep contemplation. “There are a large number of far more interesting people in this castle than you, Merlin. I’m certain I will have no difficulties finding someone else to spend my time with.”

Now Merlin was grinning. “And there are so many people around that are far less of an arse than you--“

“Hey, watch it!” Arthur scolded, but had to bite back the smile all the same.

“So I shouldn’t have any difficulties either,” Merlin finished, without missing a beat.

“Who’d want to spend time with a simpleton like you?” Arthur said, reaching for an apple and taking a bite.

“Gaius, Gwen, Marion, Berta and Sarah from the kitchen--” Arthur ignored the uneasy feeling that settled over him at Merlin’s list of friends, “-- William from the stables, and you, apparently.”

The feeling faded away. “Mmm, well you know what I always say,” Arthur said, swallowing the bite of apple and taking another one. “There are loads of servants who can serve, but so few who are capable of making a complete prat of themselves.”

Merlin didn’t even bother to pretend as though he wasn’t rolling his eyes. “You never fail to honour me, sire,” he joked, and Arthur laughed openly.

Pushing his plate of fruits and cheese he nodded in Merlin’s direction. “I can’t eat all of this. They always send too much. Have some. Goodness knows you could afford to eat a bit more. Wouldn’t want anyone to think I’m starving my manservant.”

They’d had this conversation many times before, with Merlin always insisting that he did, in fact, eat. Quite a lot, even. It still didn’t stop Arthur from feeding him every chance he got anyway. Nor had it stopped him from requesting that they send extra food up to his room most mornings and on the days when he planned on dining with Merlin.

“Thanks,” Merlin said, grateful, as he snatched a handful of grapes from the tray.

And for a while, as they sat and ate, Arthur completely forgot about the dreams, enjoying simply being in Merlin’s company.

* * *

"So, who are they?"  
   
Arthur continued to walk in silence, ignoring the nattering voice following behind him as he and Merlin made their way to the courtyard to greet their arriving guests. In the morning kerfuffle, Arthur'd completely forgotten that they were expecting important visitors that afternoon until summoned by his father with the strict reminder to be available just past noon.  
   
"It's none of your concern who they are, _Merlin_ ," Arthur informed him, tossing a quick glance in Merlin's direction as they stepped outside into the warm heat of a mid-summer afternoon's sun. "The only thing that need concern you is at least pretending to have some consideration for your station in this castle, and attempting to behave like a half-decent excuse for a manservant."  
   
That effectively shut him up, though Arthur knew it would not last long. They wound their way down the steps to stand a few feet back from his father as they awaited the arrival of their guests. Several horses pulling various-sized carts, loaded to the brim with all sorts of lavish supplies and gifts, trotted to the centre of the court before the riders called them to a halt. As anticipated, Merlin managed to keep his mouth shut for approximately two minutes before Arthur could practically _feel_ the boundless energy radiating from the man standing immediately behind his right shoulder.  
   
"They look important, whoever they are," Merlin whispered against his ear, a warm puff of breath tickling the back of Arthur's neck.  
   
Arthur refrained from rolling his eyes as his gaze fell on the carriage that housed their guest. King Terrant, from Southumbria, had travelled many miles in order to personally arrange an alliance with Camelot. The country was smaller than Camelot, but had grown leaps and bounds in the past decade, flourishing in every way possible, including the development and training of a fortitudinous army that only rivalled that of Arthur's own knights.

Southumbria was a land rich in both resources and military might, one that could one day prove to be a legitimate ally or rival for Camelot, depending on the circumstances. Uther wisely chose to ensure that the former came to fruition, having long since begun the preparations for negotiating an alliance with the land to the south of Camelot's borders. The solitary hesitation in making such an alliance rested in the significant fact that magic was not outlawed in Southumbria as it was in Camelot. It was a factor that'd weighed heavily on the king's mind for several years. But in the end, Uther decided that the risk of one day engaging the country in war was too great to be hampered by their overly lax laws in regards to the use of magic, and as long as they did not interfere with how Uther chose to reign, neither would he interfere with King Terrant's decisions, lest it cause potential harm to Camelot.

So, with a quiet reluctance he pushed forward with the negotiations in spite of this fact. At this point, the alliance had already been forged in every way that counted, save for the documents and official exchange to be made in person. That this gathering was little more than hammering out the final details made it no less significant for Camelot, and Arthur intended to demonstrate only the best his people had to offer. Which reminded him of the tall, gangly, inquisitive man still standing just behind Arthur, waiting for a response to his usual pointless comment.  
   
"They _are_ important," Arthur told him in a hushed voice, using a tone that typically implied _shush, now is not the time to be prattling on about rubbish_. To his great delight and immense shock, Merlin actually _did_ shut up, and Arthur thought it was possible that miracles really did happen after all.  
   
The king stepped out of his carriage, dark blue robes flowing down to his feet, swaying in the breeze as he made his way towards Uther and Arthur. Arthur had never actually met the king before, but it was apparent to him, even as the man neared them, that this was not King Terrant. According to Uther, the king was tall and sturdy, with broad shoulders and dark hair flecked with grey. The man advancing towards Uther was short and of a slightly bigger build. His face was rounded, a short trimmed beard outlining his chin, and hair long and red that hung limply when he removed the hood of his robe. Uther's smile faltered, eyes narrowing in suspicion, and with the tiniest of movements his posture shifted from one of welcome to one on the defence. The other man continued to march purposefully in his direction, seemingly aware but clearly unaffected by the king's reaction.  
   
"Allow me to introduce myself, your highness," he said as he neared, bowing reverently before Uther, chin pressed down to his chest and eyes cast towards the ground. "My name is Lord Eyrbrich, and I am here on behalf of King Terrant of Southumbria."  
   
Arthur watched his father, expression remaining equally suspicious. Uther nodded his head almost imperceptibly and folded his arms across his chest. "I apologise, but I was expecting King Terrant," Uther told him, sounding anything but apologetic.  
   
Lord Eyrbrich took it all in stride, raising his eyes to quickly make contact with the king's and smiling broadly. "He as well, my lord. Unfortunately there was a crisis that he absolutely had to attend to personally. Not wanting to postpone the final negotiations for our alliance with Camelot, he chose to send me as a representative, your highness. A rider was sent ahead of our party to warn you of the changes, but I suppose something must have prevented him from arriving." The man frowned, scratching at his beard, a deeply thoughtful expression plastered onto his face for a moment. And then, as quickly as it'd arrived, the frown melted into a charming smile once more. "Regardless, I apologise for any inconvenience this may have caused you, but I hope you will consider rendering the final negotiations without meeting King Terrant face to face, my lord." He snapped his fingers then, and a second later, a young blond boy appeared obediently at his side, placing several documents into his awaiting hands.  
   
"I have all the necessary documents ready for your perusal, should you require assurance of the legitimacy of these arrangements." Lord Eyrbrich held out the papers, passing them off to Uther for inspection. Uther accepted them with a measure of trepidation but his gaze still fell to the documents, scanning the first couple of pages. Lord Eyrbrich watched with interest, a confident smile quirking on his lips as he waited patiently.  
   
Uther nodded after a minute, his face breaking out into a wide smile for the first time that afternoon. "Welcome to Camelot. We are honoured to have you here as our guests," Uther announced. He swept his hand out in a grand flourish, leading Lord Eyrbrich and the rest of his cavalry into the castle.  
   
*****   
   
They spent the afternoon dining in the Great Hall, sharing an early dinner together before the plates were cleared from the table and the negotiations began. It seemed that Lord Eyrbrich was particularly eager to get the ball rolling, rushing through dinner distractedly and then making vague inquiries into when they were to begin their discussions. Most of the other servants had been dismissed from the hall, but Arthur purposely ordered Merlin to stay back and serve wine throughout the negotiation meeting.

As it turned out, the simple meeting they'd all anticipated became far lengthier and more extravagant than seemed strictly necessary. Uther, Arthur and several members of the king's council sat behind one table at the far end of the hall, while Lord Eyrbrich occupied a table directly across from them. It was not the standard fare for a gathering such as this, but upon request from Lord Eyrbrich, the seating arrangements were altered. Arthur wasn't quite sure what it was, but he found he was having a particularly difficult time paying attention today. Fortunately, Arthur was quite adept at masking his boredom and inattention from everyone else in the room. Everyone, save for Merlin, that was. Arthur didn't have the slightest clue as to how Merlin managed to figure him out so easily, when many others had tried and failed in the past. It would've been unnerving, except for the fact that sometimes Arthur secretly enjoyed knowing that he didn't always need to use words to tell Merlin things; he just _knew_ them.  
   
This, however, was not one of those times when Arthur appreciated Merlin being able to see through his act. "Enjoying the meeting, I see?" Merlin's whispered breath brushed the skin behind his ear as he poured more water into Arthur's goblet. Arthur jerked slightly, barely suppressing the snort threatening to burst through, and if they weren't in a public place under the watchful eyes of the entire council, Arthur might have elbowed him in reply. Hard.  
   
Instead he plastered on a dissembling smile and gritted out, "Not as much as the ' _meeting_ ' you'll be enjoying after this one ends if you don't shut your trap."  
   
Merlin bumped purposefully into Arthur as he moved from the table, shoulder knocking his lightly as he grinned in response, eyes dancing impishly, and Arthur really couldn't find it in himself to be annoyed, much as he knew he should. Sometimes Merlin was the only thing that made these horribly dull meetings tolerable. Not that he'd ever admit that out loud, of course.  
   
More talk of borders and land disputes and grain exchanges continued, and just when Arthur thought it couldn't possibly get any duller, somehow it did. He knew that one day this would all be his responsibility, and Arthur took great pride in learning everything he would need to know in order to effectively run a kingdom. However, this was without a doubt one of the most ridiculously platitudinous kingdom ally meetings he'd ever had the displeasure of attending, and there was only so much he could do to keep himself awake, never mind actually focusing on the task at hand.  
   
"Before we can finalise this deal, your highness, there is one final matter we must discuss," Lord Eyrbrich announced several tedious minutes later, folding his spindly fingers and placing them on top of the table. His smile twisted, the corners of his mouth pulling up ever so slightly, and there was something decidedly off-putting about the way he stared at Arthur before directing his focus once again towards the king.  
   
"Of course," Uther said with a nod, gesturing for him to continue speaking.  
   
Lord Eybrich cast a furtive glance in his advisor's direction before addressing the court once more. "We are aware of Camelot's stance on magic; however, King Terrant does not share the same sentiments." Lord Eyrbrich held up a hand before Uther could protest, indicating he had more to say on the matter; surprisingly, Uther remained silent. Arthur caught Merlin's eye for a moment, noting the anxious expression which had settled upon his features, but he shook it off as simply Merlin being Merlin.  
   
"As a sign of good faith, we would merely request that you allow one or two of our sorcerers to make their homes within the borders of Camelot," Lord Eyrbrich carried on, sweeping a hand out in front of him.  
   
Arthur's head darted to the side to take in his father's reaction to this request. As anticipated, Uther’s eyes blazed dangerously. Still, when he spoke, it was with the refined coolness of someone who had been hardened by many years of difficult decisions, fury barely detectable in his tone. "Surely you recognise how absurd that request is. Magic is outlawed in Camelot," Uther explained, overly patient, as though this were the very first time he was sharing this well-known knowledge with anyone. "To allow sorcerers to reside within our borders would shatter the delicate balance I've managed to establish in the kingdom. There would be public fear and outrage; everything I've built would come crashing down. Your king must be aware of this fact. Why he would request such a thing is beyond my understanding."  
   
Lord Eyrbrich smiled then, just the quick flicker of amusement passing over his face before it was the vision of perfect neutrality once more, but it was enough of a response to warrant question. It appeared almost as though he'd been expecting that response, and was pleased upon receiving it.

"You would prevent a merger with our country, simply because you hate magic?" he asked, the hint of a challenge in his words.  
   
"This was not a term King Terrant and I agreed upon in all of our preliminary discussions," Uther responded, shifting in his seat, and stared hard at the man opposing him, eyes dark and angry. "He knows our stance on magic, and we agreed to leave that element out of the equation entirely. Why would he suddenly now go back on his word?"  
   
Lord Eyrbrich laughed, a humourless pitch to his voice. He folded his arms defiantly across his chest and leaned forward in his seat. "Tell me, King Uther, do you hate all magic users as much as you hate magic itself?"  
   
"You're out of line, Lord Eyrbrich," Uther cried, body poised to stand, though he remained rooted to the spot, fury etched into every angle of his face.  
   
"You're right," Lord Erybrich agreed, pushing his chair back and rising to his feet in one fluid motion. "I am out of line." He stepped away from the table, sauntered casually around it, fingers trailing against the rough wood as he did so.   
   
The air in the room was dank, suffocating, all of a sudden, and Arthur felt a chill creep unexpectedly up his spine. Something was not right here; not right at all. A foreboding sense of danger washed over Arthur as he watched Lord Eyrbrich take a step forward. At the same time that Uther stood from his seat, Lord Eyrbrich raised a single hand high above his head and started to chant words that were foreign to their ears as he advanced upon Arthur. He tried to push his chair back from the table, but found that he could do little more than stare helplessly at the man who carefully stalked towards him. Arthur's limbs felt heavy, as though someone had replaced his bones with concrete blocks, though he wasn't sure if his immobility was due entirely to magic, or if a pit of fear also weighed him down.

Guards rushed forward, attempting to seize hold of Lord Erybrich, but they seemed to run into an invisible wall as they neared the man, rendering any intervention useless. Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw Merlin rushing forward from across the room, frantic and terrified, and he wanted to scream at him to _get away from here, don't get yourself killed, you idiot_ , but found he was still unable to move a muscle.  
   
Arthur knew in that instant that this was the end of his life; he would be murdered on the spot by a sorcerer with a grudge against his father, with no opportunity to even defend himself, as he sat in the Great Hall of his own home. He'd heard stories of people who'd come close to death, only to be saved at the last moment, how their lives had flashed before their eyes as they mentally prepared for their end. He'd heard the tales and yet, even though he’d been here before, he still had yet to have a similar experience. There were no chronological flashes of memories, or wondering 'what if?' He simply saw the faces of those who held a special place in his heart, as always. Arthur did not wish for his father or Merlin to watch him die, did not want to watch them witnessing his death. But at the same time, he was not a coward, and Arthur would not grant Lord Erybrich the satisfaction of turning away from him now, cowering behind hands or closed eyes, no matter what was about to happen.  
   
Arthur expelled a breath -- his final one, he believed -- and was struck with the odd thought that he’d been here before, perhaps in a dream or a nightmare, and wondered if there might have been something he could have done different today to prevent this from happening. A moment passed, and then another, every muscle in his body tensing simultaneously, as he feebly braced himself for impact. Arthur heard a crackling sound, like thunder, and then a blinding white light burned his eyes, and he ducked his head, screwing his eyes shut lest he lose his vision all together. In those few moments following the flash, he heard several frantic screams, some more unidentified noises, and then nothing, as a warm wave of air seemed to encircle him. It took him another few seconds to register that he was still breathing, had not been attacked like he'd anticipated, was still alive and seemingly well.

When Arthur's eyes fluttered open again he saw two things immediately. The first was the body of Lord Eyrbrich, lying in a heap on the ground at his feet. Arthur didn't need to look twice to know that he was dead. The second thing he noticed was Merlin standing a few feet back, one arm pointed in Arthur's direction, wrist bent back and fingers splayed, looking perhaps even more terrified than he had earlier. Arthur caught his eye momentarily, and the haunted fear that radiated back at Arthur made his stomach clench as he struggled to put the pieces together.  
   
"Guards! Arrest him for the crime of sorcery," Uther's booming voice tore through his thought process. Uther was pointing vaguely in the direction of his manservant, but Arthur knew there had to be some mistake. "He shall be executed at noon tomorrow as per the laws of Camelot."

But then Merlin dropped his hand, body slumped forward, looking utterly defeated as two guards roughly grabbed his shoulders and started to lead him away, and Arthur knew that this was, indeed, no mistake. Having finally managed to regain the use of his limbs, Arthur stood and shoved his chair back violently, vaulting over the table that separated him from Merlin.  
   
"Have you lost your mind?" Arthur demanded, torn between rushing towards Merlin or his father.  
   
The expression on Uther's face showed little more than pure and unadulterated disdain. "He has committed the crime of sorcery in this court, in front of all these witnesses."  
   
Arthur stared, dumbfounded, mouth gaping and shoulders hunched forward as every muscle in his body constricted at once. " _What_?"  
   
Uther's frown grew, familiar lines etched into the creases of his mouth. He gestured to the room, and then specifically at the body still resting on the floor near Arthur's feet. "Who do you think did all of this?" he asked, challenging.   
   
Suddenly Arthur was hit with a barrage of recent memories working to make themselves comprehensible -- lights, words permeating the space all around them, the crackle of the air as a bolt of electricity shot towards him, another voice warm and familiar, a warm glow suddenly surrounding his body, the anguished cry -- it all smacked Arthur like a wave, the weight of the realisation throwing him both physically and mentally off-balance, and he had to lean over, grasp the table with white-knuckled hands to prevent himself from toppling over. Lord Eyrbrich had tried to kill him, and Merlin -- Merlin, his clumsy, barely competent, and good-hearted servant -- had saved his life. Using magic. He had protected Arthur and killed the Lord and he was now being arrested and sentenced to death.  
   
"Take him away," Uther ordered with a flick of his wrist, gaze resting firmly on his son as Merlin was willingly dragged out of the room.  
   
"But he saved my life," Arthur protested, voice sounding weak even to his own ears, and he took a step in Merlin's direction.  
   
"He broke the law," was Uther's only reply, void of any sympathy, and the deep heaviness resting in the pit of Arthur's stomach grew tenfold.  
   
Arthur couldn't think, couldn't understand what was happening or how things had gone so wrong so very quickly. The only thing he knew for certain was that he couldn't remain in that room any longer. Arthur tore off out the doors to the calls of his father, without the faintest idea of where he was going, only knowing he needed to get out of there _right now_. Two guards followed him down one of the halls, but eventually abandoned the cause, for reasons unknown to Arthur. But as he ran, only one thought hammered in a steady thrum through his veins: _Merlin is a sorcerer, Merlin is a sorcerer, Merlin is a sorcerer..._  
   


* * *

  
   
Arthur had no idea where he was going, allowing his legs to lead the way while his brain lagged significantly behind. A million different emotions raced through his body, pumping through his veins like blood, threatening to overwhelm him. Merlin was a bloody _sorcerer_ \-- the same man who broke as many dishes in one month as most servants did in a year, who couldn't hold his wine to save his life, who'd fallen asleep in Arthur's bed on occasion and instead of being repentant for it, had the gall to _blame_ him instead. It didn't make any sense at all, and Arthur felt his head begin to ache with even the thought. Merlin had lied to him all this time. He'd deceived him and made Arthur look like a fool. The betrayal stung like the deepest of wounds, matched only by the anger he felt at having been lied to for the past two years. Yet when he stopped to think about it -- and he did have to literally stop mid-pace to think in this state, as walking and higher order thought processes did not go with one another at the moment -- the small, barely rational part of Arthur's brain asked him if all that much really had changed with this revelation, but he found he couldn't answer the question.  
   
In the span of five minutes, Arthur's thoughts and emotions engaged in a violent war with one another, each fighting to take control of his mind. But in the end, the one that won out was fear -- specifically the fear of Merlin being executed. No matter what he'd done, Arthur was still certain of two things: Merlin had saved his life at the expense of his own safety, and he could not fathom watching his father kill Merlin, traitor to the kingdom or not. He could figure out the rest of the details later. For now, though, all he knew was that in spite of his anger and in spite of the betrayal, Arthur was not willing to allow Merlin to die. With this decision hastily made, Arthur turned abruptly on his heel and headed in another direction, quickly finding himself standing at the threshold of Gaius' chambers.

In the short few minutes it took for Arthur to walk the familiar path, he managed to tame his mind, pushing down every counterproductive thought and forcing himself to focus not on what had happened ( _Merlin was a sorcerer_ ; _Merlin lied to me_ ; _Merlin's going to die_ ), but on what to do now. There were only three options, as far as Arthur had been able to work out, though none of them were overly appealing. The first was that he broke Merlin out of jail and got him out of Camelot somehow. It would likely be next to impossible, but there was at least a small chance of success, and if he was doomed to die anyway... Arthur shook his head, perishing the thought. The second possibility was that Arthur issued a challenge to Uther for the throne. It was a completely mad idea, one that didn't even make sense to contemplate, so he tossed it out as well. The final possibility was that Arthur did nothing and simply allowed Merlin to die. Naturally, this was not an acceptable option for him, so the only reasonable choice was number one. 

It was logical to assume that Merlin must've had some sort of magical items or spell book or something in his chambers, and Arthur decided that it was imperative that he gain possession of any and all of those items -- both to protect Merlin and to see if there might be anything amongst his belongings that might help him escape out of Camelot. It was with that thought in mind that Arthur barrelled into the physician's chambers wordlessly, determined, focused, restless energy radiating from every pore of his body as he strode purposefully towards Merlin's room, ignoring Gaius's presence entirely.

"Sire?" Gaius' voice trailed after him, confusion and the first hints of concern evident in his tone, but Arthur paid him no heed as he burst into the back room, not knowing what he was looking for, specifically, but knowing that Merlin had to have some sort of magic trinkets, or something, somewhere here. His father would come looking for them, he knew. It would be another nail in his coffin, and Arthur had to find whatever it was Merlin owned before his father's guards did.  
   
"Where does he keep it?" Arthur barked, possibly to himself or possibly to Gaius -- he wasn't quite sure -- immediately making his way towards Merlin's cabinet, which still seemed to house practically everything _except_ for his clothing.  
   
"Keep what, sire?" Gaius asked, brows jumping up his forehead in confusion, staring at Arthur as he stood in the doorway, expression so utterly baffled that Arthur might have laughed, if the situation weren't so bloody _catastrophic_.  
   
Arthur tossed a laboured glance in Gaius' direction before burrowing himself halfway inside the closet. "His magic books, or things. He must have something. Merlin's too dimwitted to actually hide them in a safe place, so they must be here somewhere."  
   
There was a barely contained gasp from the doorway, followed by a few raspy coughs which attempted to cover up the initial reaction, but somehow Arthur knew that Gaius had always known about Merlin's magical abilities. "I have no idea what you're talking about, sire," Gaius said, stepping into the bedroom but making no actual attempt to elaborate further. Which, in reality, was probably preferable. Arthur didn't have time to listen to Gaius exposit some story to cover up Merlin's magic, when every second they wasted brought them that much closer to Merlin's death. His stomach clenched at the mere thought, and Arthur buried the sentiment, shoving it back into the inner recesses of his mind where it belonged. If he got emotional, he wouldn't be able to think clearly, and losing even the smallest shred of his mental capacity right now would surely result in Merlin's untimely end. It was not even an option.

Arthur extricated himself from the closet, pushing the doors shut, and turned to face the physician. "Gaius, I'm sorry to have to share this information with you under these circumstances, but Merlin's been arrested." A beat passed. "For the practice of sorcery." The words tasted foreign and out of place on his tongue.  
   
Gaius' eyes widened like saucers, and Arthur could already observe the protest forming on his lips. He hated that this was how the news was being passed along to the man who was like a father to Merlin, but there simply wasn't any other way around it. "Surely whoever is accusing him of sorcery must be mistaken--"  
   
But Arthur raised a single hand, effectively silencing the older man. "My father saw him perform magic in front of his very eyes. I did too. Well, partially." Arthur swallowed tightly. "He was saving my life and now his is in jeopardy."  
   
Gaius' expression fell, and he released a frustrated groan, grasping at the wall for support. "Oh, _Merlin_ , you've really done it now," he ground out dejectedly, and for the briefest of moments, Arthur worried that he might topple over as he swayed on his feet.

"I'm sorry, but we don't have much time here, Gaius," Arthur said, and dropped to his knees at the end of Merlin's bed. "He must have some sort of magic spells on parchment or a book or something here. I need to find those things and get them out of here as soon as possible. Guards will be on their way to search his room any minute now; they may even already be on their way. And if the guards find whatever it is Merlin has hidden here before we do, then it's all over." It was all over anyway, but at least they had a chance, slim though it may have been, to save Merlin's life. With that, he all but dove under the bed, shoving aside boots and clothes and other random trinkets in search of something he only assumed existed.  
   
He heard Gaius' feet padding towards the bed, boots scuffing restlessly over the rough wooden planks as he did. "I don't know for certain, but I think he hid his book under one of the floorboards around his bed."  
   
Arthur emerged from under Merlin's mattress, eyes seeking Gaius' imploringly. "Well, then let's find it."  
   
He shuffled backwards, then crawled a couple of feet to the left, tapping at each section of board that lay across the ground, seeking the one loose plank he knew was there somewhere. All of Arthur's attention and energy suddenly narrowed in on this singular task and he felt consumed with the knowledge that he absolutely had to find this book before Camelot's guards did. His hands roamed across the dusty floor, pushing books and boots and clothing roughly out of the way as he struggled to find the loose board. Arthur nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw feet next to his face on the floor, eyes darting up in surprise as Gaius joined him in his search. He shot Gaius a grateful smile and continued on with the search.  
   
Thankfully, their goal was accomplished a couple of minutes later, when Arthur finally located the detached floorboard. He lifted the board from its resting place to reveal a rather large book standing upright in the small space. Unless Merlin had a hidden stash of inappropriate pictures, there was little else the book could be.  
   
"I assume this is it." Arthur looked to Gaius for confirmation.  
   
"Yes, it would appear so," Gaius agreed, appearing rather uncomfortable kneeling on the floor.  
   
The sound of a heavy knock brought both Arthur and Gaius back to reality, and Arthur allowed the board to slip from his fingers back into place. He vaulted up off the floor and turned to Gaius. "Go and stand on top of the floorboard and don't move under any circumstances," Arthur instructed, voice barely above a whisper as he rushed out of the door to Merlin's room.  
   
"Sire?" Sir Leon asked, raising a brow in question as he made his way into Gaius' workshop, followed by two other knights, intentions clearly obvious in their expressions.  
   
"Good, you're here," Arthur said, speaking in tones just slightly louder than entirely necessary. "I just started the search of Merlin's room and could use a couple of extra hands."  
   
If any of the guards were sceptical, no one indicated as such, and for that, Arthur was thankful. He led them towards the back, silently praying that Gaius had been given enough time to get into place, and that he would stay put.  
   
The four of them searched the room from top to bottom, Gaius frowning and protesting and demanding to know what was going on -- for which Arthur couldn't have been more grateful -- as they overturned tables and emptied his cupboards. Arthur made a big production of crawling around on the floor, ensuring that he appeared as though he were searching everything thoroughly, without getting too close to Gaius' legs. Five minutes later, when they were satisfied that the room had been torn apart, and that there was nothing of interest there, Arthur led Leon and the other guards to the main entrance of the workshop, informing them that he was going to stick around to speak with Gaius for a few minutes.  
   
Leon nodded, solemn. "That sounds like a good plan, sire," he said, and stared at Arthur for just a moment longer than necessary before turning and leading the others out of the room. Arthur's eyes narrowed as he watched their retreating backs, but he didn't have time to analyse the situation right now. Gaius and, more importantly, Merlin's book of magic spells, were waiting for him.  
   
"That was a close call," Arthur breathed out as he entered Merlin's room once more to find Gaius still standing in the exact place he'd left him, and the physician could do little more than nod his affirmation, eyes weary and worried.  
   
He made his way across the room to the physician. "Well, we can't leave this thing here," he declared authoritatively. "It's too dangerous."  
   
"What do you suggest we do with it, sire?”

“I’ll take it back to my chambers,” Arthur said. “It’ll be safer there. I can look through it without fear of being caught.”

Gaius’ brows furrowed. “Why do you want to look through Merlin’s book?”

“I’m hoping there’s something in it that might help him escape. I’m not allowing Merlin to die,” he added upon seeing the physician’s puzzled and anxious face.  
   
Once they were completely positive that it was safe, he and Gaius set about figuring out a way to hide the magic book on Arthur's person so he could take it back to his chambers.


	2. Chapter 2

**This Dark Road Will Lead Us Where We Want to Be -- Part Two**

The trip back to his chambers was one of the longest Arthur had ever walked in his lifetime. Unconsciously, he found himself quickening his pace in an attempt to reach his rooms faster, but he forced his muscles to slow, in spite of the tense chokehold that wracked his entire body, and did his best to affect a casual stroll. Arthur knew without fully knowing that he would be watched with extreme scrutiny; Uther currently believed Arthur to be in agreement with the laws of Camelot, but he was also more than aware of how attached Arthur had grown to Merlin over the years, much to Arthur's chagrin. Any suspicious activity from Arthur would lead to immediate questioning; this he knew and desperately needed to avoid. So, with laborious determination, Arthur strode through the castle, avoiding eye contact and silently begging the gods to spare him from being accosted along the way.  
   
By some unbelievable miracle, Arthur was able to successfully circumvent any unwanted conversations. But it wasn't until Arthur was safely behind his chamber doors -- heard the latch of the lock click shut -- that he was able to breathe a sigh of relief. Any comfort he may have felt at making it back to his chambers unseen did not last, however.

Time was of the essence, and if Arthur was going to come up with a solution as to how to see Merlin through this mess without ending up on the executioner's block, he needed to work quickly and efficiently.

He took a seat at the far end of the table in his chambers, placing the large book on top of the wooden surface. The magical tome was physical evidence of the secret that Merlin had held onto for so long, and now that Arthur possessed both, he felt an odd sense of protectiveness well up within him. Merlin had, inexplicably, managed to keep this book safe for the past two years, shut away from the eyes of a society that would not only ostracise, but outright kill him for even having it in his possession. The details were still hazy -- Arthur didn't know when Merlin first realised he could do magic, if he'd used magic since arriving in Camelot, why he'd never told Arthur his secret -- but the one fact with which he seemed to hold a great deal of confidence in was that Merlin most certainly was not his enemy. Protecting the magic book from his father, and even more importantly, using the same magic to help ensure Merlin's survival felt right to Arthur.  
   
He fingered the worn leather cover before opening the tome to the first page. Words -- many of which he could not read or understand -- and pictures littered the various pages as he thumbed through them, the only recognisable English words seemingly the names of the spells.  
   
Arthur had no idea what he was searching for as he scrutinised each page, eyes quickly scanning the text and pictures for something that appeared as though it might be helpful. Merlin had no doubt used magic numerous times in the past to protect Arthur; surely there was some spell in this book that would be able to protect him in return.  
   
Several minutes passed as Arthur flipped through the book, words jumbling together, before he decided that he couldn't afford to do this on his own.  
   
Standing, Arthur closed the tome and made his way towards the bed, book tucked safely under his arm. Bending down, Arthur lifted up the end of his mattress with one hand and shoved the book into place with the other. Even though the book itself was sizeable, its presence under the mattress was surprisingly undetectable. It wasn't the most brilliant of hiding places, but for the moment it would suffice.

Arthur ran a hand through his hair, a mildly exasperated sigh slipping past his lips unbidden, before he turned on his heel and made his way to the door in a few long strides.  
   
Unbolting the lock, Arthur pulled open the door and poked a cautious head out into the corridor. It would be too much of a risk to head back to Gaius, he knew, but there was no reason why the physician couldn't come to him instead.  
   
"Hey, you," Arthur hailed the first passing servant, "I need you to go and fetch Gaius. I have a terrible headache and require something for it immediately."  
   
The servant's eyes flickered up to Arthur's face before he dipped his head reverently. "Right away, sire," he muttered, and trotted obediently off down the hallway.  
   
Time seemed to drag as Arthur waited for Gaius. He paced the length of his room for several minutes, restless energy threatening to burst through, every few seconds casting his gaze in the direction of the door. Thoughts kept springing forth into his mind, demanding attention, but he knew he couldn’t afford to dwell on them at the moment, continuing to pace instead. When he grew tired of the pacing, Arthur decided to tidy his chambers, which were, surprisingly, not as unkempt as he would usually expect. He picked up a brown jacket, hung it in the closet, folded a blanket lying half on the bed and half on the floor, moved a few pieces of armour into the corner of the room. Arthur ran a finger across the top of the fireplace, decidedly impressed when the finger emerged dust-free. Merlin really was a mystery sometimes, with how he could be so generally incompetent most of the time, but then actually do something right here and there. No one else would put up with him, that was for sure, but Arthur couldn’t imagine things being any different to how they were right now. Shaking his head, Arthur tried to clear his mind of thoughts of Merlin; thoughts that had been conjured up by dust, of all the pointless things in the world. It said something about Arthur, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what that was just yet.

He was in the process of shining his sword -- despite the fact that it had been sharpened and shined earlier that day -- when a soft knock sounded at the door, and he nearly dropped the weapon at the noise.  
   
"Enter," he said, tensing involuntarily as the door creaked open.  
   
Arthur released an audible sigh upon sighting Gaius, tossing the sword on top of his bed as he quickly ushered him into the room, closing and locking the door behind them.

"I assume you didn't want to see me because of a headache, sire," Gaius began, setting a vial down at the end of the table and shooting Arthur a pointed look, "but I brought something for you just in case I was stopped along the way."  
   
Arthur nodded gratefully, eyeing the lock just past Gaius' left shoulder to ensure it was, indeed, still secured. "I need your help," he said, retrieving the book from its temporary hiding spot.  
   
"What, exactly, do you think you can do with Merlin's magic book?" Gaius asked, stepping to stand beside Arthur as he placed the tome on top of the table and opened it to the first page. Arthur took a seat in front of the book; Gaius remained hovering over his shoulder.  
   
"Surely there must be something in here that can help him," Arthur replied. They began to flip carefully through the pages.  
   
"So you’ve said. Do you mean some spell that could get him out of Camelot?"  
   
"Yes. No. Well, maybe." Arthur shook his head, frowning slightly as fingers glided over the worn pages. He tilted his head to the side, casting a longsuffering glance in Gaius' direction. "I don't know, exactly. I just know that my father won't let Merlin live, no matter how much I protest. And I'm quite certain that he will have someone keeping a close eye on me at all times, in order to ensure that Merlin doesn't suddenly disappear without explanation."

A flash of a memory flittered through his mind of a time not so long ago, when Arthur had disobeyed his father and sent Merlin safely out of the city before he could be arrested. How he wished that he'd been able to do something more than merely watch earlier today, as Merlin was hauled away to the dungeons. No matter what it took, Arthur would not see Merlin die; _could_ not.  
   
Gaius nodded solemnly before flipping another page. "What are you planning to do, once you find something?"   
   
Arthur bit his lip. He hadn't quite worked out the details yet, but he had a vague idea. "Bring the spell down to Merlin myself. No one will search me. I'll give it him, and he can do his magic." A beat. "Literally."  
   
"Merlin won't leave Camelot," Gaius said after a pause, tone confident and assured, as if there was no room for refuting what he believed to be an undeniable fact.  
   
"I can convince him," Arthur declared with a confidence that belied the uncertainty he felt in his gut. "Merlin's not going to die. Not this young, and not like this."  
   
Gaius placed a gentle hand on Arthur's shoulder, squeezing lightly, as if trying to infuse some comfort or reassurance into him. Arthur shoved the emotions that were threatening to push forth back down, and forced his mind to concentrate solely on the task at hand.  
   
They came across several potential spells -- one that made a person invisible for a short period of time (but it wouldn't last long enough to get Merlin out of Camelot); one that caused everyone within radius to forget the last twelve hours (but Gaius declared it too risky an endeavour); and one teleportation spell that apparently would require a great deal of practice to master effectively (but Merlin didn't have that kind of time) -- but nothing that would actually be effective in protecting him from his fate. They still had almost half of the book to search through, but Arthur was starting to get discouraged. Surely there had to be _something_ useful among the hundreds of spells in the tome.  
   
Numerous minutes and many pages later, they were still no closer to finding a solution. Arthur felt his frustration building, felt like he wanted to punch something. The fates were cruel and heartless, and whatever gods were out there, uncaring and determined to make Arthur’s life a living hell. There were no other real possibilities, as far as he was concerned. He was about to turn another page when something jumped out to him suddenly, though he couldn't identify what, exactly, triggered the reaction.  
   
"What's this?" Arthur asked, pointing to the bottom half of the right page. The picture accompanying the spell showed the profiles of two generic people, standing across from one another, connected to each other via lines running between their chests, hands and eyes.  
   
Gaius pulled the book so he could read the page clearly, resting both hands on the table and bending down to study the words more closely. "It's a soul binding spell," he answered after a moment, an unreadable expression on his face.  
   
"A soul binding spell?" Arthur parroted, quirking both brows in question.   
   
The physician nodded slowly. "Yes. Essentially it is the process of binding two souls together."  
   
Arthur scratched absently at his chin, mind already churning as he watched Gaius carefully. "What does that mean, exactly?"  
   
Gaius hesitated, a gaping silence filling the void for several moments, and Arthur felt a shift in the tension in the room, though he didn't understand why. "Basically, it means that when two people bind their souls together, they are connected in life and in death." He paused, deliberately, turned away from Arthur. "There are various types of bonds, but the general principles are all the same. The most significant one being that if one of the bonded dies, the other will die as well."  
   
A spark ignited somewhere at the back of Arthur's mind. "So if person A gets injured, will person B also experience the same injury?"  
   
Gaius considered this for a moment, eyes distant and focused on the far wall of Arthur's chambers before addressing him. "No, I don't think so. Not unless the wound is fatal. In which case, person B will feel the pain of person A without the actual physical manifestation of said injury. There is also frequently an emotional attachment of sorts, where the bonded feel elements of each other's emotions and moods, sometimes thoughts, though the details are somewhat hazy. Oftentimes there is also an element of detachment involved, in which the bond will react if the bonded are separated by too great of a physical distance."  
   
Arthur considered this. "What happens if the bonded are separated?" he pressed.

Gaius eyed him disapprovingly, looking more than suspicious. “Sire, what’s this all about?”

But Arthur shook his head, unwilling to be deterred, even though it was quickly becoming obvious where he could be going with this. “Answer the question, Gaius.”  
   
Gaius’ frown deepened. “Yes, sire. Though I would like it to be noted that I know very little about soul bonding spells.”

“That’s fine. Carry on anyway.”

An unimpressed glance was tossed in his direction before Gaius finally continued with his explanation. "Usually if the distance is small, both parties will feel intensely drawn to one another. This will dissipate upon reunion. If the distance is greater, any number of things can happen, ranging from decreased focus and concentration to physical weakness and physical or emotional pain. In very rare cases, death can even occur, if the bonded are separated for too great a distance for too long of a time, though that's usually only in the case of extremely strong bonds."  
   
Arthur nodded, allowing the information to sink in, as the idea that'd been massaging his mind throughout the course of the conversation finally took shape. It was completely and utterly mad, but there wasn't a lot of time, and Arthur knew he had to do _something_. He was desperate, and thus far it was the best lead they had. Arthur was quite certain that when all was said and done, there would be a great number of ramifications that he'd have to contend with. But for now, those possibilities were inconsequential.  
   
"Okay," he stated, pushing the chair back from the table and standing. "That's good enough for me."

Gaius folded his arms across his chest and stared at Arthur wearily. He looked decidedly unimpressed, but not the least bit surprised. “Sire, I’m sure you think this sounds like a good idea, but rest assured that it’s most certainly not.”

“Well, there aren’t exactly any other options jumping out at us here,” Arthur pointed out. “What would you have me do, then?”

Frown lines further creased Gaius’ face as his scowl deepened, shaking his head and appearing exhausted, both mentally and physically. “I don’t know,” he admitted with a certain air of reluctance, “but the soul bonding spell is both dangerous and foolish. Surely you can appreciate that, sire.”

And fine... Arthur was willing to concede that Gaius was correct in that it wasn’t exactly the most brilliant plan he’d ever devised. But the simple reality was that Merlin was going to die unless Arthur did something, and he’d rather take that risk than spend the rest of the night pondering other options until they ran out of time. In some ways it was complete madness, and in others, it was almost genius in its simplicity.

“I do, Gaius,” Arthur said, in his best attempt at a reassuring tone. “However, I also know that I can’t allow anything to happen to Merlin, and if this is our best option, then I’m not going to toss it away simply because it comes with personal risk.”

Gaius sighed, deep and with great frustration. "You could easily end up dead," he pointed out, just in case Arthur somehow missed that minor piece of information.  
   
Arthur shrugged. "That's sort of the point, wouldn't you agree?" He felt like he'd completely lost his mind; and maybe he had. But he didn't see any other way, save for actually issuing a challenge to the throne and removing Uther from power, which he simply couldn’t imagine himself doing. "My father won't risk killing his son, the only heir to the throne. This is the only thing that makes sense."  
   
"Don't be so sure about that, sire," Gaius jumped in again, reaching out as fingers curled tightly around Arthur's arm. "What do you think your father will do to you when he finds out _you've_ used magic too? It's too dangerous to even think about attempting."  
   
Arthur bit back a growl as a surge of anger coursed through his veins, fierce and unexpected, face flushing as a consequence. "And what am I supposed to do, Gaius? Just let Merlin die? You know as well as I do that if the situation were reversed, Merlin would be doing everything in his power to save me. The least I can do is the same in return. Yes, my father will be angry with me, but he'll understand, eventually."  
   
"Merlin won't risk your life that way, Arthur. You know it as well as I do," Gaius added, voice taking on a softer tone.  
   
"That's why I'm not going to tell him what he's doing."

Gaius' hand fell back to his side, and he tucked his chin against his chest, breathing out a sigh heavy-laden with uncertainty. "I respect your dedication to Merlin, my lord, but I fear you haven't thought this through clearly." He spoke with deliberation, as though picking his words with the utmost delicacy. "Even if you are able to successfully bind yourself to Merlin, and you both make it out alive, what then? Have you thought about what will happen to Merlin then? Or how this will impact you both in the future?"  
   
But Arthur was done with the conversation; his mind was made up, no matter what Gaius threw at him. He was fully aware of the fact that this plan came with potentially volatile consequences; he would just have to deal with those when they arrived.  
   
"I'm aware of the risks, Gaius. Just tell me what we need to do," he said, feeling the first surge of hope flood through his veins since this whole mess started.  
   


* * *

  
   
After reviewing with Gaius at least four times what was required in order to properly execute the spell -- and enduring several more valiant, albeit failed attempts at derailing the plan -- Arthur felt confident that he would be able to pull this whole thing off. It was a rather mundane process, really, given the seriousness of the spell. The two individuals to be bonded needed to be in physical contact with one another when the spell was incanted, but beyond that, there wasn't much else they needed to do. While Arthur was unable to read the words, Gaius informed him that they were fairly straightforward. Seeing as how there was no safe way for Arthur to transport the magic book down to the dungeons without being caught -- and given Merlin's radical resistance to following orders of any kind, especially when it meant doing something to protect himself, or something that could possibly endanger another individual -- other measures needed to be taken. Arthur meticulously copied the words from the tome to a scroll while Gaius provided feedback. He wrote the entire thing out several times before he was satisfied with both penmanship and accuracy. Then he added a couple of extra sentences, nothing magic related, in order to increase the appearance of legitimacy for the story he'd already formulated in his mind.  
   
Arthur deliberately opted to stick around his chambers after seeing Gaius off, much as his whole being itched to race down to the dungeons immediately. But Arthur knew that he needed to wait; if he rushed things, the whole plan could fall apart at his fingertips.  
   
Once he felt sure that a reasonable amount of time had passed from the moment Gaius left, Arthur grabbed the folded scrap of paper and tucked it securely at the bottom of his right boot. With a heavy heart, Arthur pulled open his chamber doors and began the familiar trek towards the dungeon. An element of tension hung in the air, its aura so palpable that it seemed as though it could literally be sliced with a dagger. Arthur particularly felt it swell when passing fellow knights and servants in the halls. It was no secret that Merlin was, all around, a deplorable servant as far as practical skills went. He was clumsy and slow and had a particular penchant for egregious errors. It was also no secret that even those who spent a great deal of time within the castle walls wondered why it was that Arthur kept him around for so long. But those who knew him well saw his loyalty, his compassion, his helpful nature... and it wasn’t so hard to understand that maybe Arthur needed something more than merely a decent manservant.  
   
Candlelight flickered softly from the sconces hanging on the wall, casting ominous shadows down every hall. The evening bustle within the castle walls was coming to a close as servants finished their tasks and headed home for the night, making the trip less eventful, in spite of the evening's earlier excitement. Arthur could hear hushed conversations as he neared the entrance and steeled himself for what he was about to do, rounding the final corner and coming face to face with the slew of knights that were apparently needed to guard the sorcerer.  
   
"I'm here to see Merlin," Arthur announced, though recognised it was fully unnecessary, as every single guard in the room knew precisely why it was that he stood before them.

A couple of the guards cast nervous glances at one another, another coughed awkwardly, but no one moved to give him pass.

"Let me through," Arthur said, this time with more force and less patience.  
   
Most of the guards -- several of them his knights, no less -- continued shooting each other hesitant looks as Arthur's patience began to grow thin. He was about to shove past them when finally Leon stepped forward, eyes meeting his before dropping respectfully, fiddling anxiously with the cuff of his sleeve.  
   
"Sire, I'm afraid you don't have clearance to see the prisoner," Leon informed him, shrinking back into himself as though he feared some sort of retaliation from Arthur.  
   
At that, he nearly exploded on the spot. What did they mean, _he didn't have clearance_? He was the bloody prince of Camelot; he could see whoever the hell he wanted to see, whenever he damn well pleased. But in the regal manner in which he was raised, Arthur forced his anger in check, blowing a breath out through his nose, before responding. "What do you mean I don't have clearance? On whose orders?" Arthur demanded, even though he already had an idea, voice level but with a distinct coldness.

Leon swallowed visibly, reaching up to run a hand awkwardly through his hair. "On the order of the king, sire." Leon shot him a pained look, something like sympathy glimmering briefly in his eyes. "I'm sorry, but we can't let you pass."  
   
Arthur fisted his left hand tight against his thigh, feeling the bite of fingernails as they dug into his flesh, and he blinked the red-hot fury from his eyes. Arthur knew it was futile to try and argue with them, much as he didn't want to have to face his father about this issue. He briefly wondered what would happen if he tried to force his way through, mentally calculating his chances of success, but knew that it wouldn't buy him enough time with Merlin to get the spell completed.  
   
"I understand," he said finally, then turned on his heel and marched back in the direction he'd come, a new side mission at the forefront of his thoughts.  
   
*****  
   
"Absolutely not." Uther's strong voice resounded and reverberated against the walls in the empty throne room.  
   
"But Father," Arthur began, quelling the anger that was already bubbling to the surface of his consciousness. He'd barely had time to walk into the room and insist on being permitted to see Merlin before Uther was asserting his will on the situation.  
   
"My decision is final, Arthur," Uther said, shooting his son a grim warning that marred his already dark features.  
   
But Arthur was not willing to accept that as an answer. "No, it's not," he declared with all the conviction and assurance he could muster. "I have a _right_ to confront my own servant. Especially after I find out he's been lying to me for the past two years." The hurt that radiated from his voice was entirely genuine, and he swallowed heavily.

Uther merely shook his head. "It's too dangerous."

Arthur actively bit back the scoff dancing on the tip of his tongue. "Merlin won't hurt me," he said, knowing without actual confirmation (except for the fact that he was willing to risk his life on the belief that he _did_ know) that this was undeniably and inherently true.  
   
"Don't be ridiculous Arthur," Uther nearly growled, shaking his head dismissively. "He's a sorcerer. A liar, a cheater and a murderer. They're all the same. You should know this by now."  
   
"He exposed himself to _save my life_ ," Arthur protested, unable to prevent the incredulous tone that wormed its way into his voice. "If he wanted me dead, he could have let me die. Hell, he could have killed me thousands of times over again in the past two years and made it look like an accident, but he didn't. Merlin may be a liar, but he wouldn't hurt me, of that I'm sure."  
   
Uther did not look convinced. "He has clearly bewitched you, then."  
   
"No." Arthur took a deliberate step towards his father, pointing a finger accusingly in Uther's direction. "I am looking at the _facts_ only. I see no logical reason why Merlin would save my life merely to kill me immediately after. There is no logic in that."

Uther scowled, lips twisting irritably. "Magic users have no logic to their thinking. They are dangerous and a threat. Why can't you see that?"

"What about Gaius? He used magic in the past, did he not?" Arthur pressed, shooting him a hard stare, and the king's expression faltered slightly.

"That is an entirely different situation," Uther said, stepping backwards and sinking purposefully onto his throne. "That was in the past. He no longer practises; has not done magic for many years now. Your servant openly displayed powerful magic mere hours earlier."

Arthur reached up with both hands, knotting his fingers together and pressing the palms to the nape of his neck, elbows pointing out towards the walls. "Merlin may be more powerful than Gaius," Arthur acquiesced. "But it doesn't change the fact that Gaius is an exception to your rule. And if there is one exception, then surely there can be others." His arms fell down to his side once more, nails scraping the back of his neck as they went. "Besides," Arthur continued, "if he's as determined to end my life as you seem to think, what's to say he'd even need to physically see me in order to finish the job? My visiting of him in prison will not change anything, and we both know it."  
   
Uther made no move to respond, simply sat, arms crossed, expression dismal. This was a good sign, Arthur knew. He hadn't spent the last twenty-two years of his life figuring out all the intricacies and subtleties of his father's behaviour and body language for nothing. He took it as a sign to carry on.  
   
"After tomorrow morning, Merlin will be... gone." He couldn't quite bring himself to utter the word 'dead', pushing down the automatic jolt of fear and disgust the thought evoked in his gut, carefully schooling his features. "At least allow me the courtesy of speaking with him one last time. I gave him my trust, something that I don't hand out lightly, and he used that against me. I need to know why he did what he did."  
   
Uther seemed to be considering his words, but he still frowned, looking decidedly unpleased. "I know you cared for him, Arthur. Don't try and convince me that you didn't, or that this is merely about reprimanding a servant, because we both know that would be a lie."  
   
"I never claimed such a thing, Father, and I never would," Arthur said, and squared his shoulders, hands fisting loosely at his side. "But that's all the more reason for me to be permitted to see him. If he were some nameless servant, it would be one thing. But as I say -- he was someone I trusted, perhaps even a friend, under different circumstances -- and so the deception hurts me all the more. Yes, I want to confront him about being a sorcerer, but also about how he betrayed both Camelot _and_ my trust."  
   
Uther pressed his lips together in a firm line, the tension in his shoulder dissipating ever so slightly.  
   
"Surely ten minutes with him can do no harm," Arthur pleaded, could already see the stern consternation melting away, but still desiring to push his point home. "Besides, I saw how many guards you had posted down in the dungeons. I can assure you I have no intention of trying to help Merlin escape" -- and that, at least, was the truth woven amongst an entanglement of lies -- "but I would merely like an opportunity to have my final say."  
   
"I know even you would not be so foolish as to try and help him escape," Uther said in a tone that very much implied Arthur had just been insulted. But he would gladly bear the offense if it meant putting an end to this conversation once and for all.  
   
"Give me ten minutes," Arthur tried once more, bowing his head in deference. "That's all I ask."  
   
The reluctant sigh that snaked past Uther's lips was enough of an assent for Arthur, and without a second thought, he turned on his heel and strutted confidently out of the room.  
   
*****  
   
In the end, Sir Hector ended up accompanying Arthur back down to the dungeons at Uther's behest, signalling to the other guards that Arthur had permission to see the prisoner.  
   
Merlin was being quarantined, separated from the rest of the prisoners due to his extremely 'dangerous and volatile' status, though Arthur could not quite reconcile either word with the compassionate, clumsy, good and loyal man he knew. As they neared his cell, Arthur felt his chest clench tightly. They'd been here before -- more than once with Merlin getting himself thrown in jail for insubordination or his own stupidity -- but it'd never been quite like this. Things were decidedly different this time around, whether he liked it or not, and the knowledge hurt in a way that he wasn't quite sure how to interpret.  
   
"He's in here," the guard announced, sticking his key in the lock and opening the cell door.  
   
Arthur stepped inside, breath hitching in his throat, and he waited until the door clicked shut behind his back, the sound of boots padding on the stone floor disappearing.  
   
It took a moment for Arthur's eyes to adjust to the dim light and he used this opportunity to scan the room for Merlin. The cell was dark and musty, chilly at this time of night, room filled with the faint scent of rotting leaves and stagnant water. The only genuine source of light crept through the bars of the window during the daytime, set high on the wall so that it was virtually impossible for a person to actually see outside, but at night it offered little in the way of visibility. A single candle, ensconced in its casing on the wall near the door lit the room with a soft glow, casting dark shadows along the walls. A weathered cot, so old and decrepit that Arthur wouldn't allow his worst enemy to come near it, rested against the far wall, a single sheet thrown casually on top of the bed as though it would offer some sort of respite from the chill of the night.  
   
At first Arthur didn't see him, thought he'd been taken to the wrong cell, but then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a flicker of movement coming from the far left corner of the room. His eyes darted eagerly towards the source of the movement, and was slightly taken aback by the sight that greeted him. Merlin sat huddled in the corner of the room, wedged between the wall and the head of the cot, legs pulled up to his chest and arms wrapped securely around his shins. His chin rested in the small space between the tops of his kneecaps, right side of his head tilted just enough so his ear brushed against the stone wall, dark hair tousled and sticking out at various angles. Shackles were attached to his ankles. The thing that immediately jumped out at Arthur, however, was the fact that Merlin looked so _small_ somehow; not only physically but in presence as well. He was a sorcerer -- and quite possibly a very powerful one, if today's display was any indication -- but he held the aura of a frightened mouse, and it threw Arthur completely.  
   
"Merlin?" Arthur asked, voice husky and loud as it broke the quiet of the cell.  
   
Merlin's head shot up for the first time since Arthur entered the room, almost as if he'd been in a daze and only recently broken free from it, turning wide eyes in his general direction. The fear written across his features was as prominent as if he'd walked over to Arthur and smacked him in the face with it. Arthur felt something churn in his gut as it dawned on him that he was not staring at the Merlin he'd thought he always known, in more ways than one. He knew that a various number of emotions should be flooding his mind -- anger, betrayal, hurt, fear, doubt, hesitation; but oddly, in this moment, he felt none of those things. Arthur had questions, so very many questions, and knew nothing had fully sunk in just yet; however, when he looked over at Merlin, cowering on the floor in spite of the fact that he probably very well _could_ take Arthur apart with less than one blow, the only feeling that spread its wings, soaring across his mind, was one of a fierce and reckless desire to protect the man. Which assumedly was a good thing, considering the reason he now found himself standing in this very position, wild intentions and dangerous plans notwithstanding. Arthur sucked in a steadying breath and took a couple of tentative steps towards Merlin, who, for his part, appeared unaffected by his advancement.  
   
Arthur strode forward, stopping a few feet away from his dark-haired servant, still hunched over on the floor, so that he was close enough to get a good look at him without crowding his personal space. "Stand up," he commanded.  
   
Merlin, to his credit, actually did exactly as instructed, struggling clumsily to his feet, especially given the long chain attached to his ankle, and for the first time, Arthur noted with discomfort just how pale and thin he truly was. Surely the weight loss hadn't occurred in the past several hours, and it left Arthur with a cold sensation in his chest to know that he had missed something this huge in Merlin's life. He wondered what other secrets or stresses Merlin kept locked in the inner recesses of his mind, and how long Arthur had turned a blind eye to them all. Merlin scratched his left elbow, then curled fingers around the joint and pulled his arm into his chest, eyes downcast, silent and waiting.  
   
At least several dozen questions tumbled through his mind as he opened his mouth to speak -- _how long have you been able to do magic_ , _why did you keep it from me for so long_ , _do you not trust me_ , _what were you thinking_ \-- but what came out instead was, "Have you ever tried to harm me, or Camelot, with your magic?"  
   
"No. Never." The answer arrived swiftly, and with more than the usual confidence that Merlin typically embodied, shaking his head vigorously. "I've never done anything to deliberately harm you or Camelot. Everything I've ever done has been to protect you -- keep you safe. I know you don't have any reason to trust me, but Arthur-- you have to believe that, if you don't believe anything else that comes out of my mouth."  
   
His voice was desperate, pleading, but also calm and assured at the same time, if that were possible, as though the truth would be plain to see now that the evidence had been presented. Arthur met Merlin's gaze, searching his eyes for any sign of falsehood, but he saw nothing there except sincerity and truth, unbridled in the same manner with which his usual enthusiasm for life shone through. It was the first spark Arthur had witnessed since arriving in his manservant's cell, but it was enough to ignite confidence in him. He was exceedingly aware of the fact that Merlin had lied to him numerous times over the course of the past two years; but on this, he knew without any shadow of a doubt in his mind that Merlin was speaking the truth.

He bit back a sigh, shaking his head clear of the hundreds of questions that were now starting to fill his mind. There was so much Arthur didn't know, so much he didn't understand, but now was not the time to get into any of it. There were more important things that needed to be dealt with at the moment.

"All right. I believe you," Arthur said.

Merlin’s eyes enlarged in disbelief. “That’s it?” he asked.  
   
Merlin was terrified and overwhelmed, that much was plain to see. Arthur knew he carried a burden and fear on his shoulders that he never should have had to bear in the first place. But Arthur needed him to focus, required all of his concentration if this was to work. There was no space for distractions, no room for error; Merlin needed to be grounded, pulled back into the present moment and the present time.   
   
"Look, Merlin, we don't have a lot of time and I need your help with something," Arthur told him, reaching out to place a comforting hand on Merlin's shoulder, squeezing gently as Merlin caught his gaze, confusion written plainly across his face. But the contact seemed to do its job, stilling the restless energy in Merlin, and he visibly appeared to calm, shoulders relaxing and breath slowing just a fraction. It wasn't a miraculous turnabout, but it would suffice.  
   
"Anything," he finally said, trusting, sincere, loyal as always. Even as he believed his death was imminent, Merlin still served Arthur with his entire being. If there'd been any lingering doubt as to Merlin's motives or plans, they would have been vanquished with that single word.  
   
Arthur took a step back, pressing one knee to the ground as his fingers worked at his boot, Merlin watching his every movement with rapt attention, eyes narrowing in confusion when Arthur pulled the scrap of paper from its hiding place under the arch of his foot. He fixed his foot within the boot, and righted himself so he was standing face to face with Merlin once more. Arthur extended his outstretched arm in invitation, the scrap of paper resting between his index and middle fingers. Merlin stared at it for a moment, brows furrowing in concentration, before he plucked it from Arthur's hand and shot him an inquisitive glance.  
   
"I need you to read what's written on that piece of paper for me."  
   
"Why?"  
   
"What do you mean 'why'? Because I told you to," Arthur instructed, voice filled with a sternness he didn't necessarily feel. He wanted Merlin to read the spell out loud without questioning him, though he preferred not to resort to bullying tactics to accomplish that goal. Just this once he prayed for some blind obedience, already knowing full well that Merlin wouldn't be Merlin if he didn't question every other order handed to him.

Merlin eyed him warily. " _Arthur_."  
   
Arthur held his breath purposely, eyeing Merlin with the same level of trepidation, releasing a calculated sigh a few moments later. "It was written on a document I found in my father's possession. There was more, but I didn't have time to copy it all out." He'd sorted out the story in his head beforehand, but hearing it now, he questioned whether it was quite as brilliant as he'd originally surmised, and, more importantly, whether or not it was clever enough to fool Merlin.  
   
Merlin stared blankly at Arthur for a moment, blinking several times in succession as if he were trying to process the words. "I don't understand," he finally said.   
   
"The document appeared to be about _you_. I thought that perhaps this might tell us something that could help you, but of course my father didn't know I'd even seen it, let alone had time to jot down what was written there. I can't read it myself, but I thought that perhaps you might be able to." The lies flowed surprisingly easily from Arthur's lips, and he wondered if this was what it felt like for Merlin, when he'd lied to protect Arthur all those times in the past. It was incredible, really, the things that someone was willing to do for somebody they cared for. Of course, binding his soul was standard fare; Arthur would do the same for anyone else, he was quite sure, ignoring the tiny voice squawking in protest at the back of his mind. At the very least, he had developed a new appreciation for Merlin's predicament and he resolved to remember this later, when he had time to properly reflect on this whole situation -- when Merlin was alert and able to talk freely and still very much alive.  
   
Merlin looked sceptical. "This was all you were able to copy?"  
   
Arthur opened his mouth, poised to respond, but Merlin cut him off. "How did you even manage to find a quill and piece of paper in time? And why would you copy out something you couldn't even read--"  
   
Arthur stopped him mid-sentence. "Would you stop over-thinking and over-analysing this? Just... read it. Please. We don't have time to waste arguing about this," Arthur said, coming about as close to begging as his princely pride would allow, fingers wrapping loosely around Merlin's wrist. And maybe some of the genuine desperation he felt translated into something more concrete, because as Merlin studied his features, he seemed to see something there that pushed him into action.  
   
"All right," he said, acquiescing to Arthur's request. "If that's what you want."  
   
"It is." His hand remained firmly attached to Merlin's wrist.  
   
Merlin squinted in the darkness, holding up the paper with his other hand so the thin line of moonlight from outside illuminated the words scrawled across the page. It wasn't the best of circumstances, but it would suffice.  
   
Merlin's eyes scanned the words several times before he turned his head to glance at Arthur. "Um, this doesn't make a lot of sense. It sounds like it might even be a spell, or something. And I'm not sure what this has to do with me..." he trailed off, and at the same moment, they both heard the sound of approaching boots scuffing on the floor in the distance. They turned in unison to stare at the cell door.  
   
"Why would my father have a random spell written on a document in his possession? That idea is preposterous, Merlin. Don't be such an idiot," he insisted, voice soft, tearing his gaze away from the door and placing it back on Merlin.  
   
Merlin shrugged, distractedly. Arthur gave Merlin's arm a squeeze after a moment, tugging at the wrist until his attention was back on the task at hand. "Just hurry."  
   
Merlin nodded, concentrating on the piece of paper. He took a breath, then began to read the foreign sounding words on the paper, eyes alighting with a golden flame, visible even in the dimness of the small cell, and Arthur stared with a mixture of wonder and awe at the sight of Merlin -- _Merlin_ , of all people -- casting magic right in front of his face.  
   
The instant the words left his lips, a jolt of energy passed between them. It seemed to fly from Merlin's wrist, travelling up Arthur's arm and passing through his entire body like blood coursing through his veins, before shooting back into Merlin via the wrist Arthur still grasped. It was not a painful feeling, but definitely unmistakable, not something he could explain away, and Arthur was filled with the nearly staggering sense of relief at having successfully bonded his soul to Merlin's. Merlin practically jumped out of his skin at the energy transfer, literally fell back against the cell wall, as his eyes widened in realisation, a single finger pointing accusingly in Arthur's general direction.  
   
"That _was_ a spell," he hissed out, darting his head all around suspiciously, fear written across his features. "You felt that, I know you did. What did you just have me do, Arthur?"  
   
"I didn't do anything," he lied, but the words lacked conviction this time.  
   
"Arthur, what did you just do?" Merlin asked for a second time, worry replacing some of the fear in the tone of his voice, the downturn of his lips, the dullness of his eyes.  
   
Unexpectedly, both for Arthur and Merlin, Arthur suddenly pushed Merlin's chest, so that he staggered back, shoulders landing against the wall at his backside. Without much thought, Arthur came to hover right into Merlin's personal space, only a fraction of a wall of air separating their bodies from being pressed together entirely.  
   
"Do you trust me?" Arthur whispered against his ear, nudging his shoulder to press into Merlin's chest.  
   
"What?" Merlin paused, sounding confused, worried, even wounded, somehow. Arthur pulled back just enough to stare into Merlin's eyes, left hand clamping down suddenly on his manservant's shoulder.  
   
"Do you trust me?" he repeated, this time with a greater sense of urgency. Arthur ignored the little voice at the back of his mind reminding him of the secret Merlin kept from him all these years. They could deal with that later, when death was not knocking at their proverbial doors.  
   
"Yes, you know I do--"  
   
Arthur cut him off, bringing his mouth close to Merlin's ear once more, and digging his fingers into the muscles of Merlin's shoulder. "Then just trust me on this. Everything's going to be fine. I promise." He lingered there, perhaps a fraction of a second longer than was strictly necessary before he reluctantly pulled back. With his free hand, Arthur plucked the paper from Merlin's grasp, shoving the sheet down his trousers for safe keeping, much to Merlin's surprise; he was not about to leave evidence like that in Merlin's possession, lest his father somehow try and pin this whole thing on Merlin tomorrow.  
   
A moment later two of the guards appeared at the cell door, just as Arthur released Merlin from his hold. "Trust me," he asserted, one last time, at the exact moment that one of the guards called out, "Sire?"  
   
"Yes, my business here is finished," Arthur muttered, almost placed a hand on Merln's forearm, but decided against the action in case they were watching.  
   
He dared not chance a look in Merlin's direction as he left, quietly reminding himself that he'd see the man again, alive.

* * *

That night Arthur dreamt of fear and blood and the rancid stench of death. In his dreams he watched Merlin, face haunted and devastated, as he was executed in front of his family and friends, over and over again in an endless, torturous cycle. Each and every time, Arthur tried to save him, fought against guards and fire and even his own physical chains, but the result was always the same. Arthur was prevented from assisting him at the last moment, Merlin always died, and Uther cheered for the continued freedom of Camelot from the threat of sorcery. The true horror of the decrees his father passed off as a necessity for justice and peace had never truly sunk in for Arthur before, until someone he cared for replaced the invisible threat Uther saw at every corner, and the realisation of the true wickedness of the past twenty years of iniquitous punishment for anyone who even dared to think of using magic stabbed Arthur like a physical blow.  
   
He awoke just before dawn, vaulting up and out of bed, skin bathed in a sheen of sweat, heart thundering in his chest. Perching on the edge of his bed, Arthur lowered his face into his hands, breathing deeply as he struggled to shove the last wisps of the nightmares from his mind. As he sat there, a light breeze from the window he'd accidentally left open last night sent a chill rippling across his back, and Arthur suddenly felt the urge to go down to the dungeons, to just make sure that Merlin was all right.

*****  
   
At first, the thought tickled the back of his mind, present and persistent, but not overly demanding. However, every subsequent minute that passed seemed to dredge up a greater sense of urgency in Arthur, the feeling building slowly in his gut, coiling around him as though a hand were squeezing him tight from the inside, and what'd originally started as an idea to quell his own anxiety suddenly started to feel like an absolute necessity. Arthur took off from his chambers at a quick, but steady, gait, wending his way through the corridors, only now starting to show signs of life at this still early hour. By the time he arrived at the dungeons, Arthur was traveling at a pace just short of sprinting, the fear that'd taken a hold of his mind virtually overwhelming. He was in such a frenzied rush, that he nearly bowled over Hector, one of the guards on shift, as he clambered through the main entrance.  
   
"I need to see Merlin," he told Hector, fighting to keep his expression and voice as neutral as possible, as he came to an abrupt halt in front of him.  
   
"He's not here, sire," Hector responded with a shake of his head.  
   
A spike of terror flared through Arthur's gut, nearly choking off his breath, and he knew, just _knew_ that something was very, very wrong with this whole picture. "What do you mean he's not here? Where is he? What happened?" Arthur entreated, involuntarily crowding into Hector's personal space.  
   
Hector inched back just enough to put a bit of distance between them, as another guard appeared at his side.  
   
"Leon and Gawain came down here not too long ago. Said they had orders to remove the prisoner," Bedivere jumped in, sidling up to Hector as he met the prince's stern expression.  
   
Arthur's heart skipped another beat. "When was that? Where did they take him?" he demanded, voice rising as his gaze shifted rapidly between the two men, all earlier concerns about schooling his distress completely forgotten.  
   
Hector shrugged nonchalantly, either too dense to notice Arthur's urgency or simply not interested enough to care, but Bedivere, at least, seemed to know something of use. "It wasn't that long ago. Five, maybe ten minutes. You just missed them, actually," Bedivere shared, eyes crinkling in concern. "Why do you ask?"

But Arthur's mind was already churning, sorting through the most logical explanations. There were only two feasible options he could come up with, and neither were even remotely good. Arthur cursed, loud and brash, feeling the sudden desire to punch a wall well up within him. Without another thought, Arthur whipped around on his heels, and tore off down the halls, away from the confused calls of the guards, not caring in the least that a few of the passing servants shot him baffled looks as he sprinted past them. By the time he reached Gauis' chambers, Arthur already knew that he'd find it free of his manservant, but he barrelled in nonetheless.  
   
Gaius immediately bolted up in bed at the loud and obvious intrusion, face contorting in confusion and worry at Arthur's unexpected entrance.  
   
"I think Merlin's been taken for an early execution," Arthur spilled before the physician could even open his mouth to form words, wasting no time in cutting to the chase as he hurried over to the bed.  
   
Gaius's upper body stiffened, eyes widening in fear. "How do you know?"  
   
Arthur shook his head, pacing. Frantic energy pulsed through his veins, and he fought against the rising panic, feeling on the verge of losing the last remnants of a fragile control he still possessed. "I don't know how I know. I just do. I woke up this morning and had this feeling that I needed to go and check on Merlin, but when I got there he was already gone. Bedivere said Leon and Gawain had received orders to remove Merlin. That was maybe ten minutes ago. All I know is that there's no reason to move him this early in the morning, and I can't get the idea out of my head that something awful is about to happen." Arthur scrubbed a hand over his face, the prickles of stubble scratching roughly against his palm.  
   
Before he knew it, Gaius was out of bed, grabbing at his boots. "You have to find your father, Arthur. You must hurry," Gaius instructed, shoving his foot into one of the worn leather boots.  
   
Arthur nodded without question, knowing that Gaius would be following in his footsteps as soon as he was able, immediately heading for the door once more. There were only two places his father would likely be, if he'd moved up the execution without informing anyone, and Arthur silently prayed to whatever gods were listening that he'd be able to find his father before it was too late.


	3. Chapter 3

** This Dark Road Will Lead Us Where We Want to Be -- Part Three **

Typically, there were only two places where executions in Camelot were held. The vast majority occurred in the main courtyard, as it afforded the opportunity to make a public display of the punishment doled out to those who chose to practice magic in the kingdom, a spectacle and warning alike for the masses. But there were times when, for political (and once or twice, personal) reasons, an execution was held in the smaller courtyard behind the castle. It lacked the dramatic flair and swell of inbred fear that openly accessible executions often brought forth, but it served its own purpose, especially in cases where there was effort to actually _hide_ the execution from the public eye.  
   
Arthur harboured no doubt whatsoever that his father had purposely chosen to access the inner courtyard for this particular execution, not the least of those reasons being that his chambers faced the main courtyard, and there would be no way to hide the intent of Uther's actions if carried out directly under Arthur's nose. No, Arthur was undeniably confident that he knew his father well enough to recognise the fact that by moving up the time and altering the location, he believed he could take care of the 'Merlin problem' before Arthur even awoke for the day. Except for the minor detail that Uther was painfully unaware of the fact that killing Merlin would also kill his son, a reveal Arthur was greatly dreading, now that it occurred to him that confrontation was just on the horizon.  
   
He sprinted at a steady pace, taking every shortcut he knew of, and ignoring any surprised exclamations or questions from confused castle-dwellers as he passed. Arthur silently thanked the gods that he was in peak physical condition, because the castle was not small, and the trip from Gaius' chambers to the courtyard out back was far longer than one would anticipate. When he finally burst out from one set of back doors, he could see a small group of people, mostly guards and council members, gathered several hundred feet away, his father among the numbers. Arthur knew by virtue of still being alive and breathing that Merlin had not yet been executed, but he had no way of knowing how imminent that course of action was, so Arthur did the only thing he knew of to put a halt to everything.  
   
"Stop!" he hollered, voice booming in the silence of the early morning as he raced into the courtyard at top speed. "Stop!"  
   
All eyes fell to Arthur as he entered the execution area, eyes wild, hair flying in every direction, panting with exertion. He darted past the slew of guards that separated him from Merlin -- was surprised when no one attempted to prevent him from getting closer -- and found himself face-to-face with Merlin, tied to a pole up on an unlit pyre, looking for the world like he'd already died, at least in spirit. Relief washed over him like a wave, despite the guilt that clenched at his chest like a vice at the sight of Merlin looking so helpless, and he crumpled forward, hands coming to rest on his knees as he sucked a few deep breaths into his oxygen-deprived lungs.  
   
"Arthur. What are you doing here?" Arthur righted himself and turned to face the harsh tone of his father. Uther stood with hands on his hips, face twisted into a scowl, but for his part, he didn't appear as surprised to see Arthur as would have been expected.  
   
Arthur pointedly ignored the question, stepping purposefully between his father and Merlin before addressing Uther. "Why are you out here now? I thought the execution was scheduled for noon," he growled out, barely able to keep from wincing at the word 'execution'.  
   
"I decided that it was in Camelot's best interest to move up the scheduled execution time," Uther said, voice cutting like the blade of a knife.  
   
Arthur knew it was a lie as much as his father did, but he wasn't sure that calling him on it was the wisest course of action at the moment. "You wanted me out of the way," Arthur stated matter-of-factly, not as an accusation or a question, but simply as a known truth, impressed with his own show of restraint in light of the current situation. He was playing a dangerous game here, and Arthur was acutely aware that there was still the distinct possibility that both he _and_ Merlin would end up dead within the hour anyway.  
   
Uther shook his head, shooting a disparaging look in his son's direction, as if he saw his weakness and pitied him for it. "There is nothing you can do to prevent this from happening. I know you care for the boy, but he made his choice when he broke Camelot's laws, and he must suffer those consequences."  
   
"Had Merlin not intervened, _I_ would be the one dead right now. He dies because I live," Arthur pointed out, feeling a renewed wave of anger wash over him at the blind stupidity of his father. How had he never realised the inherently flawed logic in the king's viewpoint before was a testament to how strongly Uther had the people brainwashed into thinking that all sorcery was evil and wrong.  
   
"Get him out of here," Uther commanded with a casual flick of the wrist, and instantly, two guards had Arthur in a veritable death grip. He hadn't seen who they were, but instinctively suspected they were some of his knights, brain already calculating how to get out from their hold on him.  
   
Arthur began struggling the instant they attempted to remove him from the area, twisting his arms and shoulders, and endeavouring to elbow one or both of them square in the chest. But their hold on him was surprisingly forceful, and in spite of his best efforts, Arthur found himself being dragged back anyway.  
   
"You can't do this," Arthur shouted, even though he was still only mere feet away from his father. He was only vaguely aware of how ridiculous he must look at the moment, but didn't particularly care.  
   
Uther pointedly ignored Arthur's outburst, folding his arms across his chest and turning his head away from Arthur, very clearly sending the message that _I am King and this is my decision alone to make. Nothing you say can possibly make me change my mind._.  
   
"If you kill Merlin, you'll also condemn me to death," he announced loudly, boring a hole into the side of his father's forehead as he continued to struggle against the guards.  
   
That caught Uther's attention, whipping his face back to meet Arthur's angry expression, reflecting a similar sentiment in the prince's direction. "What are you talking about?" Uther questioned, sounding completely unmoved, but taking the bait all the same.  
   
Before Arthur had time to talk himself out of this incredibly rash action -- reminding himself that he'd already committed the offense; this was merely the confession stage of the game -- he blurted out the secret that'd been his alone up until this point. "I bonded my soul to Merlin's; if you kill him, then I will die too."  
   
The announcement resulted in an eruption of shocked cries from those present in the courtyard, particularly the few present council members. He heard Merlin's audible gasp from somewhere behind his shoulder, but he ignored the desire to react, to apologise for lying and explain his actions; however, Merlin was the least of his concerns at the moment. If looks could kill, Arthur would be dead on the spot as Uther rounded on him, posture and expression reflecting every ounce of cold, unadulterated fury that radiated from every pore of his body. The two guards still holding him in a deadlock seemed to unconsciously loosen their grasps on him simultaneously, and Arthur used this opportunity to shake them off. Unsurprisingly, neither attempted to grab hold of him once more.  
   
"What did you say?" Uther demanded, voice low and dangerous, accentuating every word. Even the scar that ran across his forehead seemed to thrum and pulsate with rage, and for one of the first times in his life, Arthur actually feared his father.  
   
Nonetheless, he knew he was in too deep to back out now. It was all or nothing, at this point. "I said, you can't kill Merlin because his soul is bonded to mine. If you kill him, you'll kill me too," Arthur repeated calmly, tone belying the sheer terror that threatened to consume him.  
   
"You're lying," Uther bit out through clenched teeth, but Arthur shook his head.  
   
"I'm not."  
   
"I don't believe you," Uther nearly growled. "You know better than that. You of all people would never defy me like that. You'd _never_ use magic." He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than Arthur, and the cold fury staring back at Arthur sent a chill down his spine.  
   
Suddenly Uther lunged forward, grabbing Arthur's tunic and shaking him forcefully, hands fisting as his wild eyes filled with equal parts rage and betrayal. "Stop _lying to me_ ," he hollered, the sound reverberating throughout the otherwise quiet morning air, and for a brief moment, Arthur thought Uther might just kill him right on the spot anyway. Any other sounds faded out of existence, those witness to the scene before them held their breaths in collective anticipation of what was about to happen. But just when it seemed as though Uther would lose his last shred of control, something seemed to click -- Arthur witnessed the minor shift in his father's countenance, even as he shook him to his core -- and he shoved Arthur backwards, taking a purposeful step away from his son. Arthur nearly lost his balance, struggling to right himself without falling over, and he watched his father carefully for his reaction. He had no doubt that by taking this course of action, Arthur had damaged their relationship -- possibly permanently -- but he still saw no other course of action, and did not regret anything; at least not yet.  
   
Silence stretched in the air between them for what felt like minutes, though was likely only a few seconds, vehement tension swelling in the air all around and between father and son, neither choosing to speak again.   
   
"I wasn't lying," Arthur finally told him softly, as he began to come down off of his adrenaline high, voice shaking in spite of his best efforts to the contrary, and he found he could no longer meet his father's enraged gaze, felt the fury and the betrayal and the disappointment without having to see it, scorched forever into his memory.  
   
"You will be sorry that you ever did this, make _no_ mistake," Uther hissed at him, before ordering the guards to take both Merlin and Arthur to the dungeons and striding away.

* * *

Arthur groaned, leaning his head against the wall he was propped against, and closed his eyes. He was really starting to regret not planning this out better beforehand. Sure, Merlin was alive and well -- for now; who knew what would happen to them both in the next twenty-four hours -- but Arthur desperately needed to talk to him, and he didn't have the faintest idea of how to make that happen. Uther was enraged, and if Arthur were a betting man, he'd wager good money on the likelihood that his father would do everything in his power to keep Arthur as far away from Merlin as possible.  
    
Trying to break out of here was pointless, he knew. Arthur wouldn't be able to set foot past his cell door without being stopped by a slew of guards; Uther had made sure of that much. And even if he somehow managed to take them all out with his physical prowess -- though Arthur wasn't so arrogant to think he could take on that many knights at once, unarmed -- by the time he reached Merlin's cell, they'd maybe have four to five minutes, at the most in which to speak. It wasn't enough.

So he sat, angry and frustrated and thoughtful, attempting to figure out a solution to this impossible situation.  
   
It took a good fifteen minutes before he was struck with an idea that was even remotely feasible. In reality, it was by all practical standards ridiculous, and with a very slim chance of success. Still, it was an idea, nonetheless, and that was worth at least pursuing to the end. The other day -- it felt like years ago now -- when he and Gaius had discussed what, exactly, it meant to bond his soul to someone else's, something he'd said hadn't meant much to him at the time. But now, whilst he was contemplating ways of getting into Merlin's cell, or vice versa, that seemingly inconsequential comment held hope for a potential solution to their current predicament. Gaius had told him that sometimes there was some sort of emotional bond, in which ' _the bonded feel elements of each other's emotions and moods, sometimes thoughts_ '; but it was the 'thoughts' part of his claim that now piqued Arthur's interest.  
   
Arthur pushed himself into standing from the floor, dusting off the back of his trousers as he made his way towards the cell door. "Leon?" Arthur called out, rattling the bars just enough to make noise, but not too much to rouse anyone's suspicions. He waited a second, maybe two, then repeated the action of shaking the bars and yelling for Leon. Arthur was a knight himself, had spent many nights guarding prisoners in the past, and so he knew full well that there would be at least two -- likely more than that, given the circumstances -- knights standing within earshot of the cell door. Why he chose Leon, Arthur wasn't entirely sure, except that he seemed to be sympathetic to this whole situation, and Arthur would need a sympathetic individual -- and one he trusted -- if he hoped to make this long shot a possibility.  
   
Arthur was about to try for a third round when he heard shuffling in the distance. Releasing the bars, Arthur took a step away from them, absently kicking at a small stone on the floor, while he waited for a guard to appear. It was Hector who eventually showed up outside his cell door, apprehension apparent in his posture.  
   
"He's not here, sire," Hector informed him; not terse, but lacking in the usual zeal his youngest knight was prone to display.  
   
"Do you know where he is?" Arthur asked, folding his arms loosely across his chest.  
   
Hector hesitated for a second, casting a quick glance behind him before responding. "He stepped out for a moment. Is there something I can help you with, sire?"  
   
Arthur simply shook his head. "No. But please inform Sir Leon I need to speak with him upon his return," he instructed, knowing full well that even though he was the prince, his words held less weight from behind the bars of a prison cell. Still, Arthur was counting on Hector's loyalty to him to at least pass along the message to Leon and he hoped he wouldn't have to wait long.  
   
Time stilled, as it often did when one was waiting for something particularly important, and Arthur eventually ceased his pacing to take a seat on the cold stone floor at the back of the cell. He wanted to appear as in control as possible when Leon did arrive -- _if_ he arrived, though Arthur was praying he would.  
   
Finally, after what felt like hours but was more realistically no more than ten to fifteen minutes, he heard the familiar click of his cell door, eyes jumping up to watch Leon as he cautiously took a step past the threshold.  
   
"Leon." Arthur beckoned him into the cell, remaining fully seated, lest Leon get any ideas about what he might want and bolt.  
   
Leon looked pained as he edged forward with a measure of trepidation, and Arthur hadn't even said anything to him yet. His concern and understanding over this whole debacle made Arthur wonder if Leon, too, didn't have some of his own secrets to hide. "I need to ask something of you," he stated plainly. Arthur saw little value in beating around the bush with this particular request; either he agreed to it or he didn't, plain and simple.  
   
A single brow arched high on Leon's head, inquiring, waiting.  
   
"I need you to bring a message to Merlin for me," he said, solemn. "It's incredibly important."  
   
"Sire, surely you know that's an unwise request," Leon began to protest, tossing a quick look over his shoulder as if to ensure no one had heard anything. He took a few more tentative steps towards Arthur.  
   
"I'm aware," Arthur said, waving Leon further into the room, and he lumbered over to where Arthur sat on the dirty floor. "However, I desperately need to get a message to him, and I unfortunately don't happen to be in a situation where I'm able to do that at the moment."  
   
For all his height and status, Leon appeared as nervous and awkward as a teenage boy about to be caught by his parents for doing something illicit, if his jittery fidgeting all of a sudden was any indication. "Sire, I'm not sure --"  
   
Arthur nodded, holding up a hand. "Leon, I know I'm asking something that I have no right to ask of you, and if you don't feel comfortable doing so, I understand and will not hold it against you. You've always been one of the most honourable knights I know, and so I will respect your decision."  
   
Leon hesitated, looking torn. Frowning, he knelt down and leaned towards Arthur, speaking deliberately and with a hushed voice. "I have orders to report anything you request directly back to the king. He will know you asked to speak with me and will demand the details surrounding our conversation." Leon swallowed, pressed his lips together.  
   
"I won't ask you to lie," Arthur assured him, reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder, kindly squeezing the muscles beneath his fingers.  
   
But Leon shook his head, eyes wide. "I didn't say I wasn't going to do it. I just need to know what you want me to tell your father."  
   
Leon's loyalty and faithfulness were truly remarkable, and Arthur vowed to remember this in the future and reward him for it. He always knew that there was something unique about one of his most seasoned knights, but it was only now that he was beginning to truly understand what that was. Arthur couldn't help the thankful smile that graced his features. "You can tell my father that I wanted an update on how Merlin was doing, and if you tell me now, then you wouldn't be lying to him."  
   
Leon nodded in understanding. "He's tired, but otherwise fine, sire," he said, a slight twinkle in his eye. Lowering his voice, he added, "What message did you wish me to bring him?"  
   
Arthur chanced a peek over Leon's shoulder, just to ensure no one was loitering around the cell entrance, but he nearly pressed his mouth to Leon's ear anyway. "I just need you to tell him: Listen to me."  
   
Leon cocked his head to the side, brows furrowing in confusion. "That's it?"  
   
Arthur nodded. "He'll understand. I hope. Just tell him that for me, and you will have my eternal gratitude."  
   
"'Listen to me'," Leon repeated, and Arthur indicated his assent.  
   
"Yes."  
   
"All right." And then he was gone.

Arthur smiled, hopeful.  
   
*****  
   
Hope was beginning to fade as time wore on, and the more he thought about it, the more he was beginning to believe that this plan was utter rubbish. Who was he kidding? He was relying on little more than a flight of fancy and his own skewed interpretation of Gaius’ words. Still, if there was any chance at all, even if the odds were one in a million, it was worth pursuing until the end.  
   
So Arthur paced back and forth for a while. And when he grew tired of that, opted to rest against one of the walls, all the while mentally chanting, _'Merlin? Merlin? Can you hear me, Merlin?'_ as a way of gaining the sorcerer's attention, with driven focus and careful attention. There was no reason for Arthur to actually believe that he would be able to communicate telepathically with Merlin, and yet it also wasn't completely out of the realm of possibility.   
   
Still, several hours later, with no signs of success emerging on the horizon, Arthur was about ready to call this plan off and accept defeat. He now sat on the floor, back against a wall, shoulders slumped forward, knees bent, and arms resting atop his legs. Sleep actually threatened to overtake Arthur, and he felt downright dejected.  
   
 _Arthur?_  
   
The address startled him, and Arthur practically jumped out of his skin at the sound, banging his head against the back wall and letting out a hiss of pain in the process. His eyes darted frantically around the room as his hand flew to grasp the back of his skull, massaging the area forcefully, absolutely certain he'd heard Merlin's voice, but a quick sweep of the cell indicated that there was nothing.  
   
 _Arthur?_ the voice asked again, but this time it sounded more internal, as if Merlin were speaking into his brain instead of being physically present in the room with him.  
   
And then... then it suddenly dawned on him. 'Merlin?' Arthur thought, attempting to divert focus from the throbbing pain at the top of his skull to the current, and far more pressing, situation.  
   
 _Yes, it's me._  
   
'You can hear me?' he asked, still not believing that his idea had actually come to fruition.  
   
There was a pause, and for a moment Arthur thought he might have been imagining the whole thing. But then Merlin's utterly baffled reply arrived, _Erm, yes. But I'm not sure how, exactly._  
   
Arthur nearly rolled his eyes, but then decided against it when it occurred to him that Merlin couldn't see him anyway. 'Really, Merlin? You can't figure out how we're communicating telepathically? I thought even _you_ might be able to solve that one.' Arthur hadn’t intended on starting this conversation off by insulting him, but there was something comforting in knowing that amidst all the insanity of their lives at the moment, they could still fall back on their old, familiar pattern.  
   
 _Prat_ , Merlin complained, but Arthur could almost feel the hint of amusement in his tone, and the sound filled him with an unexplainable sense of contentment. _I know it's through magic, but how are we able to do it, I mean?_  
   
'I think it has to do with our bond,' Arthur thought, still reeling at the idea that he was actually conversing with Merlin without him being in the room. This ability could come in handy later, though he supposed it could also potentially wind up causing trouble. They'd have to have a conversation about this new talent at some point in the future, provided they were both still alive to do so, of course. 'Gaius said something about being able to sense each other's feelings and mood and thoughts. I just went on that theory, but I never expected it would actually work.'  
   
 _Oh._ Silence stretched between them for several long moments. _Why did you do it, Arthur?_ Merlin eventually asked.  
   
'I assume you're talking about the soul bonding thing,' Arthur replied. He climbed up off the floor and made his way towards the bed instead. It looked uncomfortable and filthy, but Arthur's arse was starting to ache from sitting on the floor for so long, and he dropped his resolve to avoid the bed at all costs. Anything had to be better than the dirty, hard floor, he reasoned, as he settled down on the mattress, face turned towards the black ceiling above.  
   
 _You could have died._ He sounded upset.   
   
Arthur huffed audibly, though he knew it wouldn't resonate into their mental conversation. 'So could you. It was the only option I had.'  
   
 _Risking your life to save mine? You had to trick me, because you knew I wouldn't do it, didn't you?_  
   
'Well, was I wrong?'  
   
 _No. I wouldn't have_ , Merlin said, sounding hurt all of a sudden. _I haven't spent the last two years watching over your princely arse to have you go down in flames with me, you know._ Something about that statement nicked at his pride -- as if _he_ , the Crown Prince of Camelot, needed a servant to protect him -- but he shoved down the feeling in favour of continuing the current conversation.  
   
'Actually, I don't know, since you decided to omit the minor detail that you were a sorcerer all this time,' Arthur retorted, in spite of himself, a small spike of anger sparking in his gut, though the immediate pang of regret that surfaced came as a bit of a shock. He’d been lied to and deceived for an incredibly lengthy period of time, and what was worse, it’d been by someone he trusted explicitly; a close friend. And yet, any logical argument that Arthur could supply his brain with about how he had every right to be furious with Merlin was tossed to the wind when he considered the other possibilities. A life without Merlin felt like... Well, it felt akin to fighting a war without armour, of riding across the country without a horse, or sunbathing while it was raining -- all irrational, ridiculous and nearly impossible, unbelievably sentimental as the feeling was. Arthur wasn’t sure exactly when or how it’d happened, but somehow Merlin had burrowed into his life, claiming a piece of him, a part in his world, and all he knew was that he couldn’t fathom living without him any longer. His reaction to the whole situation was probably telling enough.  
   
 _I know. I'm so sorry about that. But you have to understand that I didn't have a choice. I wanted to tell you so many times and in so many different ways, but I just never could._ Merlin hesitated, and for some reason Arthur felt a sense of dread at the impending words. _I was scared that you'd hate me or turn me over to your father, and then I wouldn't be able to stick around to protect you. This seemed like the only safe course of action._  
   
Arthur reached up to run a hand through his hair, scratching lightly at the scalp. He contemplated for several moments on how to respond to that. There was no way of knowing how he might have responded back in the earlier days of their relationship, when they were still building that trust in one another, but Arthur was quite certain he never would have hated Merlin, no matter how angry he'd been.   
   
'I understand what you did. Or at least I think I do,' he amended. Arthur let his arm drop to rest at his side, hand landing across his stomach, and he splayed his fingers across the soft fabric of his tunic. 'I won't lie and say that it doesn't sting -- that you felt you couldn't trust me with this piece of yourself -- but I believe you when you say you wanted to tell me. And I suppose I would've probably done the same thing, if the situation had been reversed.' He wanted to add more, about never being able to hate Merlin, but somehow that felt like too capacious of an admission at this point, especially when he considered the fact that this realisation had only just dawned on him as well. Instead, he added, 'I don't hate you, though.'  
   
Merlin let out a relieved chuckle, more nervous than humorous, making Arthur wonder how he was able to do that. _I'm glad to hear that._ A beat passed, and then, _You can tell your father that I forced you to do it. That way he won't take it out on you, and when we break the bond_ \-- something flip-flopped in his belly at the suggestion of breaking their bond, though he had no idea why -- _you won't have to suffer the consequences of going against your father._  
   
Arthur sighed, reaching up with his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. 'Merlin, I appreciate the sentiment, I really do, but that completely defeats the purpose of what I did,' he said. 'I'm the one who tricked you, and I was more than ready to suffer the consequences of my actions.'  
   
 _Even if those consequences involved death?_  
   
Arthur swallowed thickly. 'Yes,' he answered honestly, the full weight of that admission hitting him square in the chest at that very moment. This was not the first time Arthur had risked his life for Merlin, and probably wouldn't be the last, but this was different than those previous scenarios, somehow. Arthur didn't want to think about it too much, otherwise the obvious truth of the act might force him to admit that Merlin meant more to him than he was willing to own up to. There was, of course, the added fact that Uther would not kill Merlin while he was bonded to Arthur, but that still didn’t diminish the action he’d taken.  
   
'Look, Merlin,' Arthur thought, purposely steering the direction of the conversation back to the way he'd originally intended, ignoring the prodding voice at the back of his mind that reminded him he couldn't ignore this forever. 'I wanted to talk to you. I need to know every time you've used magic in the past couple of years.'  
   
There was silence for a beat. _**Every** time?_  
   
'Yes, Merlin, that's what I just said.'  
   
Arthur wasn’t sure what Merlin was referring to, exactly, though he thought it might explain a few things, if he'd been using magic to do his chores, for example. Like how Arthur's armour was always perfectly spotless in an unreasonably short amount of time, or how his bath water was always hot, no matter how long it took Merlin to haul it up to his chambers. 'Every time that my father might care,' he clarified.

 _All right, as long as you’re sure._

Arthur nodded into the darkness.

*****

The plan had been to listen, to hear what Merlin had to say and to interrupt as infrequently as possible. This information was not only significant to Arthur, as every truth he'd accepted over the past two years was suddenly being ripped apart and transformed into something entirely different, but it had the additional significance of being factual information that could potentially be used in Merlin's defence. Not that Uther's tyranny had ever been snuffed out before, but for every impossible situation Arthur'd faced in the past and arose victorious, he hadn't yet given up hoping for miracles.  
   
So, with that intention, Arthur listened to what Merlin had to say, commenting fairly frequently, but keeping most of his thoughts in check. Merlin shared how he’d used magic to trip Arthur up during their first actual fight and to save Arthur’s life, which, admittedly, Arthur thought was kind of impressive in a treasonous sort of way. He spoke of Valiant and the shield, and how he’d stayed up all night to learn the spell he needed to use to animate Valiant’s shield and prevent Arthur’s death. Even within the first few minutes of their conversation, the common theme emerging seemed to be that of Merlin saving Arthur’s life, and he felt conflicted about what this all meant, exactly.

It actually came as a surprise to Arthur when Merlin shared he knew the dragon, and how it had spoken of their “destiny” time and time again.

‘So are you telling me that you spent time with the dragon?’

 _Yes_ , he replied. _He called me when I first arrived in Camelot. Erm, he also sort of helped me many times over the past couple of years. Somewhat._

‘The same dragon that attacked Camelot?’ Arthur pressed, frowning slightly.

There was an unidentified lilt to Merlin’s voice, for just a second. _Yes, it was the same one._

Of course it had been the same dragon. His father made it clear that there’d been only one remaining dragon, just as there’d only been one remaining Dragonlord. Now there was none of either, but still... A light in the back of Arthur’s mind flickered, as though there was something more significant about this information, but he stored it in his mental file as an area to investigate further at a later point in time, and encouraged Merlin to continue.

He listened as Merlin spoke of how he’d only been trying to help Gwen and her father, but had ended up getting her arrested for sorcery instead. Arthur cringed a little at the memory of arresting Guinevere without thought, when a few hours later, he’d stood in front of his father and defended Merlin from the same charges. Arthur was beginning to realise that he might have always been a bit protective of Merlin when they reached the part of his story where he’d gone off to find the Mortaeus flower. Alone. Against his father’s wishes. It wouldn’t be the last time he disobeyed his father for Merlin’s sake, but something about this particular incident felt significant in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

Something dawned on Arthur a moment later. 'Wait, you mean to tell me that you were the one who guided me out of the cave with that glowing blue orb thing?'  
   
 _Er, yeah..._ Merlin said, sounding almost sheepish. _I wasn't even really aware of what was going on around me, but apparently I was mumbling things in my sleep and then I conjured up the light._

‘How is that even possible?’ Arthur wondered, toying with the idea in his mind. ‘I mean, how would you even have known I was in danger?’

There was silence on Merlin’s end for a moment, and Arthur could almost imagine him shrugging his shoulders. _I’m not sure, to be honest. Maybe we’ve always had a sort of bond, or connection, or something._

Arthur’d heard stranger things before, so he didn’t bother pressing the issue.  
   
Merlin continued to tell him about Lancelot -- which suddenly caused a number of things to fall into place in Arthur’s brain -- and then Edwin, and how Merlin had saved Uther’s life when he’d tried to exact his revenge. The fact that Merlin had used his magic to save the king was incredibly significant, and Arthur felt an underlying sense of sorrow for his father’s ignorance and hatred rise in his throat.

It came as far less of a surprise when Merlin shared that Arthur had been enchanted by a love spell. He’d always suspected something was off about that business with Sophia, but he’d never quite been able to make sense of the situation until now. It also explained why Arthur remembered nothing of the ridiculous story Merlin and Gaius had fed him after the fact.

He’d found a small piece of flint stone under the bed earlier, and rolling over, Arthur reached for it. Fingering the small stone, rough edges digging into the pads of his fingers, Arthur started to make small marks on the wall beside his head, tracking every time Merlin had saved his or his father’s life. He was up to six already.

‘Just to clarify,’ Arthur jumped in a little while later, when Merlin spoke of some sword the dragon had forged for him, ‘the dragon breathed some sort of magical fire onto a sword that was made specifically for me?’

 _Yes._

‘Then my father used the sword to defeat the undead knight?’

 _That’s correct._

‘And then, instead of giving it to me, you... threw it in a lake?’

Arthur could practically feel the blush creeping up Merlin’s face. _Um... yes?_

He closed his eyes, sighing, the barest hint of a smile creeping up on his lips. ‘Just checking.’

The first time Arthur actually became upset was towards the end of Merlin's exposition about the Questing Beast.  
   
'What the hell is wrong with you?' he demanded, feeling the anger rise in his chest. He'd started pacing the cell about ten minutes prior, restless energy needing an outlet as training with his knights was currently out of the question. Merlin's penchant for heroic suicidal acts was starting to really get to him. Arthur didn't understand why he seemed to value Arthur's life above his own, especially when Arthur had, on numerous occasions, proven that _he_ was willing to die for _Merlin_ , the current situation withstanding. Arthur may have been born into privilege and rank, while Merlin had far more humble beginnings, but that'd never mattered much to Merlin in all the time Arthur had known him. And slowly, the class difference between nobles and servants lost most of their effect on Arthur as well, reluctant as he was to even acknowledge that to himself.  
   
 _I couldn't let you die_ , came the responding protest. _There was no other option that I could see._  
   
'So, naturally, the only thing to do was offer up your own life. Of course no one would've noticed your mysterious disappearance,' Arthur said, voice dripping with sarcasm.  
   
There was a pregnant pause. _To be honest, not many would have. Gaius, Gwen and Morgana. Possibly a couple of the other servants. And you, I'd assume._ Arthur tried not to scoff. Merlin really did have a mental affliction, he decided then and there. There was no other explanation that he could see.  _But I'm nothing in this whole equation if you're not alive_ , he finished.  
   
'And if our destinies are so entwined, as you adamantly claim they are, then tell me how, exactly, I'm supposed to fulfill that destiny with you being dead?'  
   
There was no answer for a moment, and Arthur felt secure in the knowledge that he'd made his point. Merlin sighed, sounding tired, but Arthur couldn't let this go just yet. Wisps of a conversation, long since abandoned as being insignificant began to float back to him then, this newfound knowledge casting a whole new light on the memory. ‘That day,’ he started, twisting the idea around in his head, even as he struggled to sort through the information. ‘That day when you came to me and told me that I’d make a fine king some day but insisted that I needed to learn how to listen, then proceeded to call me a prat -- I always thought there was something off about that conversation. You were saying good-bye, weren’t you? Getting ready to go off to die.’ It was accusatory, at best, but Arthur was upset with the knowledge that Merlin had simply forfeited his life for Arthur like that, and no one would have ever known. Except, save maybe Gaius, who likely wouldn’t have said anything anyway.

 _No answer I give is going to make you any less angry_ , Merlin said a few moments later. _But you’re right -- I did come to say good-bye. I thought it was better than nothing at all._

It didn’t matter, really, that he hadn’t actually died in the end, was still alive and well, all things considered. What mattered was that Merlin had done it more than once, offered his life up for Arthur’s, which meant he could just as easily do it again. There was something to be said for nobility and sacrifice and honour. Growing up as a prince, Arthur had learned at a young age that people were going to lay down their lives as a sacrifice for him, to protect their prince and future king, and he’d even come to terms with the fact. But it’d never been that way with Merlin. He saw right through Arthur, saw past the prince to the man beneath the public persona, and still cared about him anyway. He was offering up his life for Arthur the man, Arthur the friend, Arthur the equal. And even though Merlin’s perspective was a little off, his vision of the world not yet accepted amongst most people, his heart remained in the right place.

‘Well, you’re sure as hell not running off and sacrificing yourself for me at every chance you get any longer,’ Arthur ordered, leaving no room for debate.

 _I’m not allowing you to die if I can prevent it_ , was all he said in response.

‘I’m not allowing you to die either. So from now on, we discuss these sorts of things. Do I make myself clear?’ If they still had a future, Arthur’s brain pointed out helpfully.

 _If you’re expecting me to agree to this, then I think it needs to go both ways. You have a tendency to do the same thing, you know_ , Merlin pointed out, sounding a bit put-off by the whole conversation.

Arthur didn’t like the Merlin’s tactics, even while he recognised the truth of his words. But in the end he agreed anyway, because they had to move on.

Merlin reached the part of his story where he spoke of the witchfinder, Aredian, and even though he had been incredibly reckless with his magic, he sounded so distraught about what had nearly happened to Gaius that Arthur didn’t have the heart to scold him for it.

‘So what happened next?’ Arthur asked when Merlin fell quiet for an unusually long period of time.  
   
A beat passed, and then two. Then, _Look, Arthur. I'm, uh -- well, I'm feeling pretty exhausted here. Can we just, can we maybe leave the rest of the story for later?_ Merlin's tired voice suggested.  
   
'But the more I know, the better ammunition I'll have against my father.'   
   
 _I know..._ He trailed off. _I'm sorry. I just don't think I can do this any longer. I’m tired, my head hurts, and I’m just... really tired..._ There was a broken element to his voice, and Arthur wondered what it was that Merlin didn't want to tell him. Still, the effect of maintaining the mental connection was actually beginning to make Arthur's head hurt as well, and he could only imagine what Merlin must've been experiencing. In the end, the saving of Arthur's life five versus fifty times might not have that huge of an impact on swaying Uther's decision, but he was quite sure that he at least had enough to make an argument at this point.  
   
'All right,' Arthur agreed. 'But this conversation isn't over. We _will_ carry on with it later.' If there was a later.  
   
 _Thank you, Arthur._  
   
Arthur nodded, closed his eyes, expelled a breath, trying to sort through all this new information. 'Just hang in there, Merlin,' he said at long last. And then there was silence once more.

* * *

Somewhere along the line, Arthur managed to drift off to sleep, the mental exhaustion from sustaining the telepathic connection with Merlin taking its toll on both his body and mind. While he slept, Arthur dreamed of all the adventures he and Merlin had shared in the past, but this time everything was different; there were no secrets, no hiding, no barriers between them. Merlin was Merlin and Arthur was Arthur, and something about it felt right.  
   
Arthur awoke to the sound of his cell door creaking open. He cracked his eyes open, assessing the situation as he shifted from his back onto his side with an oomph, not quite realising how stiff he was until he attempted the manoeuvre. Two guards entered first -- he couldn't quite tell who they were as the room was far darker now, dim light casting deep shadows across their faces -- followed by Hector taking up the rear. In one hand he grasped a burning torch which illuminated the entire cell quite effectively; the other hand rested on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw at any moment.  
   
"The king requests an audience with you, sire," the burly guard on the right -- Gawain -- informed him, dipping his head respectfully as he waited for Arthur to get up.   
   
Arthur nodded, rolling off the bed with a distinct lack of his typical grace. He blamed the nearly rock-hard excuse for a bed he'd fallen asleep on, thinking it only slightly more bearable than sleeping on the floor. Arthur reached up to run a hand through his hair, attempting to smooth it down and not appear as though he'd just been sound asleep as Gawain and -- now that he could see him properly -- Bedivere led him out of the dungeon.  
   
*****  
   
Arthur felt his muscles tense involuntarily as he was escorted into the throne room, instinctively preparing for the verbal, and possibly even physical, lashing that he knew his father was about to dole out. He bit back the swell of anger that arose in his chest once more at the thought of what he'd almost done to Merlin early this morning -- it felt like years had passed since this day began -- forcing his breathing to slow, and reminding himself that he needed to tread carefully. The room was quiet, thrumming with a silent intensity as he was led forward until they reached their destination, a multitude of candles flickering brightly against the back walls. It was no surprise to find Uther sitting at the throne, bent over a table covered in parchments, maps, and various other documents, brows furrowed and a frown firmly planted on his features. Uther startled slightly at their entrance into the room, but otherwise his gaze remained focused on whatever documents currently held his attention. He flipped through several papers, rummaging around for something at the corner of the table, and emitted a soft grunt upon locating what appeared to be the desired information.  
   
Several moments passed as silence hung heavy, the single source of noise arising from the shuffling of paper and the pounding of Arthur's own heart hammering against his chest. Arthur felt quite sure that this was some sort of test, or possibly the beginning of what would likely later be described as his torturous punishment, but he was determined to wait his father out. If there was one thing he could be certain of, it was that Uther Pendragon always acted with purpose, and he hadn't summoned Arthur to simply have him stand in the throne room for an hour. There was a reason Arthur stood before his father, and he would wait as long as he needed to in order to face his consequences and begin to plan ahead for how he was going to get himself and Merlin out of this mess.  
   
Arthur's frustration and impatience increased at every second that ticked by in which Uther devoted all of his attention to the documents lying in front of him, a million possibilities racing through his mind. Uther loved him fiercely, this much Arthur knew. He’d seen evidence time and time again of his father’s willingness to put his own life above Arthur’s. But at the same time, Uther’s hatred of magic ran deep, possibly as deep as his love for Arthur. The fact that Arthur had used magic against his father would not be something he took lightly or easily forgave, regardless of Uther’s love for him, and that made his reaction to this particular situation all the more unpredictable. One thing Arthur knew for sure was that his father was furious with him, but what that meant for them, for their relationship, was a significant unknown. Perhaps he would disinherit Arthur again, or maybe he would leave Merlin locked up in the dungeons until one of them passed away from old age. There were countless ways Uther could punish Arthur without doing anything to Merlin, and there was a large part of him that just wished his father would explode with the rage he felt so Arthur could move beyond this state of unknowing. However, he was no fool. Arthur had willingly used magic for his own means, but unlike his father, he was fully prepared to face the consequences of his actions, and would never lay blame upon others if things went awry.   
   
Moments bled into minutes, time slowing so that every second that passed felt like an eternity as Arthur stood before his father, arms folded loosely across his chest, shoulders squared, jaw firmly set. When Uther eventually glanced up at Arthur, he wore a neutral expression, eyes cool and lips pressed together thoughtfully as he casually leaned back against his throne.   
   
"As it turns out, the sorcerer claiming to be Lord Eyrbrich was actually an imposter," he said, voice betraying nothing more than the usual straightforwardness he possessed when sharing important information with the council. His gaze dropped to the table momentarily as he riffled through a few pages, returning his focus to Arthur immediately following the action, eyes impassive but assessing. "Lord Eyrbrich and his company were attacked on route to Camelot by a band of rogue bandits, one of whom happened to be a sorcerer with a grudge."  
   
The information seemed to make a lot more sense in light of the events of the previous day, but nonetheless Arthur was taken aback slightly by this news all the same. The knowledge that he should care more about the fact that Camelot's alliance with Southumbria was still a possibility passed briefly through his mind, but the only real concern he had at the moment was what his father planned to do about Merlin. Arthur nodded, barely the dip of his chin, but it seemed to be all Uther required to continue.  
   
"Reports have arrived that this sorcerer was part of a larger band of insurgents who are now threatening our civilians in the far southeast corner of our border, attacking travellers as they attempt to make their way through the main roads." Uther took a breath, still eyeing his son carefully, as if he were about to say something that would elicit an unfavourable reaction from him. He continued. "I need you to take a group of your best knights and head down to our border to take care of this threat. You will leave at dawn tomorrow."  
   
Arthur blinked, arms falling to his side. This was not at all what he'd been expecting upon being summoned. He swallowed heavily, nodding his head, thoughts swirling around in his mind. "Yes, my lord," he murmured, even as thoughts of Merlin continued to dance through his consciousness. He dared not ask if his manservant was coming with him, knew that it was about as likely as Uther letting him walk out of the dungeons a free man, but he still had to fight back the urge to make the request anyway.  
   
Upon agreeing to the task, Uther waved a hand dismissively, indicating that Arthur could now take his leave, before leaning forward and burying his face in documents once more. Arthur dipped his head reverently before turning on his heel and preparing to head back to his chambers.  
   
Just as he made it to the doorway, Uther called his name. Arthur turned, expression guarded. "We will deal with the _other_ matter upon your return," he said, voice cool and impassive.  
   
Arthur set his jaw and said nothing as he took his leave of the king.


	4. Chapter 4

**This Dark Road Will Lead Us Where We Want to Be -- Part Four**

He knew it was risky, but all the same, Arthur couldn't help but make a quick stop at the dungeons before he headed to the stables the next morning. He was reluctant to admit that there was anything more to the gesture than simply informing Merlin of his impending journey, but nerves twisting in his gut at the thought of being away from the castle -- from where he could keep a steady eye on his father, and more importantly, from being unable to protect Merlin should something happen -- told an entirely different story.   
   
Something in the air shifted as Arthur rounded the last corner, an element of dampness combined with a musty -- though not entirely unpleasant -- smell, temperature falling at least a couple of degrees. It was remarkable how obvious the change was, to the point where Arthur felt quite confident he would be able to tell the instant he was led into the dungeons, even if blindfolded. A wave of unexpected relief washed over him upon discovering that Leon was the sole guard posted outside Merlin's cell this morning. Of all the knights that'd been involved in some capacity in the events of the past couple of days, Leon consistently demonstrated the most sympathy for Arthur's plight. The gods, for once, seemed to be smiling down on him this morning.  
   
He sat on a stool a few feet from the main entrance, head resting against the wall, eyes closed, mouth hanging open ever so slightly. For a moment, it looked as if he'd been sleeping on the job, but the moment Arthur came trudging in, his eyes immediately popped open and fell on the prince's face. He hadn't been sleeping, that much was now obvious, but there was no doubt that the man was surprised by the sudden intrusion on his shift.  
   
"Sire." Leon stumbled to his feet awkwardly, looking slightly sheepish before the expression gave way to one of curiosity. He leaned back on his haunches, arms dangling at his side, as if he wasn't quite sure what to do with them. "I, um, assume you're here to..." he trailed off, hiking a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of Merlin's cell, "...see him? Merlin, I mean."  
   
Arthur nodded, choosing not to say anything as his mere presence alone answered the question.  
   
"All right, well come along then," Leon said, pulling out his ring of keys and sifting through them noisily.  
   
Arthur cocked a brow, not quite expecting it to be _this_ effortless to get to Merlin. "That's it? My father didn't ban me from coming within five hundred feet of Merlin?" He couldn't quite prevent the words as they tumbled from his mouth.  
   
The easy shrug that rolled off the older man's shoulders was telling, and he stopped to toss a glance back at the prince. "We received orders to keep a close eye on his cell at all points in time, but nothing specific about keeping you away. At least not since yesterday morning. And since it's a new day there needs to be new orders to reflect that, right?" Leon winked then, and Arthur blinked several times in succession, not quite believing that one of his knights had just _winked_ at him.  
   
Arthur stifled a laugh, settling for a soft, thankful smile instead. "You're a good man, Leon," he told his comrade as they continued their short trek to Merlin's secluded cell, clapping him lightly on the shoulder as they went.  
   
Leon finally settled on what was presumably the correct key, slotting it into the hole and unlocking the cell door. "Just try to be quick about it, if you could, sire," he added, almost as an afterthought, pulling the door open with slightly more vigour than was strictly called for.  
   
The sun had yet to rise that morning; at best the soft glow of daylight loomed just below the horizon, the moon already retired for the day. Which left little more than the meagre glimmer of the sole candle in the room, ensconced on the wall by the entrance, to provide light for the entire room. Arthur stepped into the cell, not unlike he'd done a day and a half ago, eyes straining to adjust to the dimness of the room, but this time things were different. Arthur scanned the room hurriedly, hoping to locate his manservant as quickly as possible, even though time wasn't quite as critical as it'd been the first time. It only took a moment for the differences to sink in. This time Merlin was not hunched in the corner of the cell, folded in on himself like a terrified, wounded animal. Instead, he lay curled on his side on one of those impossibly hard and frightfully disgusting dungeon beds, facing the front entrance, chains hanging off the end of the bed and trailing off into some dark recesses that Arthur couldn't locate. Shadows enveloped his angular face, somehow causing his cheekbones to stand out glaringly, in spite of the absence of light and the distance from which Arthur was standing.  
   
In a few long strides, Arthur found himself standing in front of Merlin, looming over his sleeping figure. He was struck by the fact that in spite of the various chains and shackles Merlin had somehow managed to find a couple moments of rest. There was no way of knowing what kind of fears and anxieties plagued his mind normally -- and what relief a few minutes of rest could provide him -- but it was with a sense of mild guilt that Arthur knelt down with the express intent of pulling Merlin from his sound slumber.  
   
"Merlin?" Arthur whispered, reaching out to touch his shoulder gently. He gave Merlin one light shake, hoping it would be enough to wake him.  
   
Instead of the grumbling he was somehow expecting, Merlin nearly jumped out of his skin, blue eyes becoming as round as saucers, voice squeaking in fright.  
   
"Relax, it's me, Merlin," Arthur told him firmly as he vaulted into a seated position, legs still stretched out on the bed, nearly knocking Arthur over in the process. The chains rattled as he moved, the sound resembling the piercing screech of a raven; it grated on Arthur's nerves.  
   
Merlin squinted at him. "Arthur?" he asked, timid.  
   
"Yes, it's me. Didn't you hear what I just said?" he chided, though not unkindly. He noted idly then that he was rubbing small, soothing circles on Merlin's shoulder with his thumb. He made himself stop, though didn't immediately break the physical contact between them.  
   
"Why are you here?" Merlin blinked sleepily, rubbing at his eyes. He shifted on the bed, swinging his feet around so that there was room beside him. Arthur took the cue, moving to gingerly plant himself next to Merlin, momentarily ignoring the less than hygienic state the bed was in.  
   
"I just wanted to let you know that I'm leaving."  
   
"What?" Merlin was awake now, wide eyes peering back at him, brows furrowed.  
   
A smile touched the corners of Arthur's lips. "Just for a few days. I have to take care of a group of bandits to the south. I just thought that you should know."  
   
And really, it was the truth, at least in part. It'd only been just over a day that he'd been bonded to Merlin, and while Arthur had no idea what impact it was having on Merlin, he was beginning to wonder if he was feeling what might theoretically be referred to as the magical bond's 'side effects'. There was no other way to explain the sudden flood of thoughts and feelings, concentrated almost entirely on Merlin, plaguing him both day and night. Under normal circumstances, it was possible that Arthur's mind drifted to Merlin several times a day, though mostly because Merlin wasn't attending to his duties properly (as usual) and required a lecture on the dangers of leaving armour lying around or the hazards of living in unclean chambers. There were times, though, when Merlin wasn't around and Arthur thought of him anyway. Like when he was bored in a meeting, or while training his knights, and even sometimes when he was out with some of his men. Sometimes when Arthur was off hunting, having shown mercy to Merlin by allowing him to stay back in Camelot instead of submitting both of them to a miserable trip, he thought of Merlin, wondering what he was doing and occasionally wishing he had forced him to come along anyway. But no matter how many times in the past he'd been guilty of permitting his mind to drift to thoughts of Merlin, Arthur had never felt so utterly enthralled with him as he had in the past day. There was of course the obvious explanation that in light of recent circumstances, anyone would react in a similar fashion. But something about the strength and intensity of the thoughts struck Arthur as being distinctly unique, not the same old situation he was accustomed to. The fact that he hadn't been able to leave this morning without seeing Merlin first spoke volumes about where his mind was currently at, and it was more than a little off-putting. So while the truth was that Arthur _did_ want Merlin to be aware of where he was going, the bigger reason for his early morning visit had been simply that he _needed_ to see Merlin, and he wasn't quite sure what to do with that knowledge.  
   
"Oh." A beat passed, then, "Be careful, all right?"  
   
He spoke with such genuine concern, voice low with the barest hint of worry (and maybe even a touch of disappointment, though perhaps that was merely wishful thinking on Arthur's part), expression trained so steadily on his face that Arthur suddenly wished that he didn't have to leave at all. Arthur swallowed, tongue feeling thick and heavy in his mouth. "I will," he breathed once he found his voice again, dropping his gaze to Merlin's hands fiddling on his lap.  
   
"Good," Merlin whispered, nodding quickly, hands stilling.

The air in the room felt heavy then, as though it were shifting in response to the slightly charged energy of the space suddenly existing between them, and Arthur wasn’t sure what to make of the change, how to interpret it. They sat for several moments in silence, staring at nothing in particular until the sound of shuffling boots at the doorway drew their attention. Two pairs of eyes snapped up at the intrusion of Leon into the cell.  
   
"I'm sorry to interrupt, sire," Leon said, the flicker from the flames of the torch he held in his hand momentarily lighting up the darkness, and his gaze darted back and forth between the two as if he suspected he might actually be interrupting something. "But I anticipate the return of Gawain and Gareth any moment now..." He trailed off, leaving the implication to hang in the air.  
   
Arthur nodded, knowing that he'd already been granted a small favour by being permitted to see Merlin before he left, and he turned back to Merlin for a moment. "We'll figure out how to get you out of here when I get back. Don't cause any more trouble while I'm gone."  
   
Merlin smiled at him, contained but sincere, as the hint of a laugh fell from his lips. "I'll do my best," he murmured.  
   
Arthur was struck with the odd idea that he should do something completely mad, like hug Merlin before he left, but was eternally grateful for Leon's presence, which prevented him from taking such an action. He settled for clapping a hand to the back of Merlin's neck instead, squeezing affectionately for a moment before breaking the contact with a cough.  
   
"Thank you," he directed towards Leon as he passed, feeling better knowing that Leon would be watching over Merlin in his absence.  
   


* * *

  
   
The last person Arthur expected to see so early on this particular morning was Gwen. And in fact, he hadn't really been expecting to run into anyone at all on his journey to the stables, which was why he was even more surprised to see her kind face when he practically barrelled right into her, head down and thoughts distant.  
   
"Watch where you're --" he said, but cut himself off as her familiar face swam into his line of sight. "Guinevere?"  
   
"Sire, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there," she stuttered out, stepping back. Hands flew to the front of her dress as she ran her palms over the still-smooth surface.  
   
Arthur shook his head and reached out to gently touch her shoulder. "No, no, don't apologise. It was my mistake. My mind has been..." he paused for a beat, "elsewhere, and I wasn't paying attention to where I was walking."  
   
"Yes, I imagine it must be," she said, smiling sadly as her hands fell loosely to her side.  
   
"I take it you've heard, then." It was a statement, not a question.  
   
"I'm afraid so. It's been the talk of the town. Is it true--" Gwen's voice dropped significantly, despite the fact that there was no one else even remotely within earshot of the two of them, "--Is it true that Merlin's really a sorcerer?"  
   
Concern and fear resounded in her voice, as though she were scared to even ask the question of the one person who would most certainly be able to provide her with the genuine facts. "Yes," he said immediately, opting to get straight to the heart of the matter. "He used magic to protect me from an attack by another sorcerer." Arthur still couldn't quite believe that all of this was true. It seemed like the kind of story that was read to small children to help put them to sleep at night, not something happening in the present moment to the Crown Prince of Camelot.  
   
Gwen's face fell as she visibly deflated. "I only heard yesterday morning but I haven't been able to find Gaius or you since then. But if Merlin is a sorcerer, why is he... why is he still...? Unless he's already..." she trailed off, eyes distant, and Arthur could only imagine what horrible thoughts were racing through her head. He'd been experiencing some of those same thoughts himself as of late.  
   
"No, he's still alive, Gwen," Arthur reassured her, not liking the way his heart ached all of a sudden.  
   
Gwen's tear-filled eyes snapped up to meet Arthur's gaze, one brow quirked in confusion. "How is that possible?" she asked, words so soft he had to strain to even hear them.  
   
Arthur hated to disappoint Gwen -- dear, sweet, loving and loyal Guinevere -- but he also knew that he would not be able to lie to her. He had no idea how she would react to the news that Arthur had bonded his soul to Merlin's in order to save his life. It was no secret to anyone that she cared deeply for Merlin; however, this was one of those rare situations that had the potential for long-lasting and potentially detrimental consequences, and he and Gwen were already facing nearly insurmountable odds as it was. But the simple reality was that she would discover the truth of the situation sooner or later anyway, so it was best that it came from the source.  
   
"The reason Merlin is still alive," Arthur took a deep breath and braced himself for impact, "is because I bonded our souls together. If my father kills Merlin, then he will also kill me."  
   
He was unable to meet Gwen's piercing stare, unsure of the reasons but suspecting it had something to do with the fact that she could read him almost as well as Merlin, and he didn't know if he wanted her truthful assessment of the situation. She made a noise, something between a gasp or a groan or possibly even a small cry -- Arthur was never good at deciphering the female response -- but remained quiet.  
   
"That sounds..." she said, hesitant. Gwen was struggling for the right words, he could tell without even looking at her, which meant that what she had to say couldn't be anything good. "... _Risky_ ," she finally finished.  
   
Arthur raised his head, eyes seeking hers, worry roiling in his gut. "I know," he admitted sheepishly.  
   
"What if your father didn't believe you and executed Merlin anyway? Then you wouldn't be here either, sire," she chided.  
   
The comment reminded him of days past, as a small child, when he would sneak away from the castle without telling anyone, only to return hours later with a light sunburn and some superficial injury he'd received from fighting away the 'bad guys' with his makeshift sword-stick. His nursemaid would fuss over him as though he'd acquired some sort of life-threatening illness, and tut warnings about how princes were supposed to _behave responsibly and not disappear without alerting anybody_ and _how dare you worry me like that; I've been running around the castle looking everywhere for you._ It was that same concerned, disapproving but still caring tone of voice which Gwen now possessed, and Arthur supposed if anything was worthy of a scolding, this was it. No matter the good intentions underlying the course of action he'd chosen, it'd been a decision that was nothing short of insanely reckless, and he was only beginning to fully appreciate that reality.  
   
"I know it was. I just couldn't see any other available options at the time." He folded his arms lightly across his chest, though not defensively. Gwen watched him intently. "It was perhaps a careless decision on my part, but I couldn't allow my father to kill Merlin like he was a piece of useless garbage, especially-- " He faltered, unsure of how he intended to finish that thought. _Especially after all we've been through; especially since I've just become used to having him around; especially since I can't imagine things going back to how they were before Merlin arrived in Camelot_. Every one of those sentiments resonated deeply within him, but it was entirely one thing to have the thought and another to voice it. Arthur opted for the safer answer. " --Especially after he saved my life," he finished, voice falling just short of convincing.  
   
Gwen tilted her head to the side, expression assessing, but otherwise unreadable. "You feel very strongly about this," she observed after a moment, her tone betraying nothing of what she was now thinking.  
   
"Yes," Arthur said, without hesitation. There was no hiding that fact.  
   
Gwen continued to study him for several seconds, eyes so piercing -- and _knowing_... like she could peer right into his soul and dredge up everything he kept locked away down there -- that he almost had to look away. Finally she nodded, seemingly satisfied, and he couldn't help but feel as though he'd somehow just admitted to something very significant.  
   
"I'm glad," she finally said, and sounded like she meant it. Arthur wasn't sure how to take that, what it meant for them, exactly, so he simply smiled warmly at Gwen, hoping he hadn't buggered everything up permanently with her.  
   
"Look, Guinevere, I know I don't have any right to ask this of you, but I was wondering if you might be able to keep an eye on Gaius -- and Merlin -- while I'm gone. I have to go and take care of a bandit issue to the south." He took a deep breath, quickly assessing her reaction to his sudden request, but Gwen appeared open; she wasn't frowning, and he took that to be as a good sign as any. "Gaius will need some extra help with Merlin currently incapacitated. And Merlin... could probably use some support right now."  
   
Gwen reached up, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, soft brown eyes never leaving his. "I'll do whatever I can," she promised.  
   
In that moment, everything Arthur adored about Gwen came rushing to the forefront of his mind. Arthur smiled, more appreciative of her understanding and caring nature than he could express. "Thank you," he told her, tone bordering on husky as he fought down the swell of emotions that'd unexpectedly risen in his chest unbidden.  
   
Gwen ducked her head, dropping into a brief deferential curtsey before she chanced a final glance in his direction. "Be safe, sire," she told him prior to slipping away, back towards her original destination.  
   
Arthur watched her walk away, mind buried deep in thought, staring after her long after she’d disappeared from sight.  
   


* * *

  
   
The forest was quiet, virtually free of the hum of insects and chirping of birds, the still, calm feeling out of place in an area that usually teemed with life and activity. Thick, dark clouds blocked the sun's rays from warming their faces, leaving the small slew of knights feeling a distinct chill in the air, despite the time of year. Rain loomed on the horizon, but thus far they'd been spared from the downpour that would eventually assault them. The mood of the group reflected that of the weather -- solemn and withdrawn, with only minimal conversation.  
   
Arthur pushed everyone along at a quickened pace, which also contributed to the general air of silence hanging amongst his men. In part the decision was made in order to cover as much ground as they were able before the rain prevented further travel for the day. The second driving force behind Arthur's hurry to reach their destination was his desire to get the job over and done with as quickly as possible so they could return to Camelot. He did not like the idea of Merlin being left alone in the hands of his father, even though the bond prevented Uther from taking any sort of action at the moment.  
   
"Sire?" Kay called, trotting up to the prince, matching Arthur's pace as they continued to ride.  
   
Arthur reined his steed in, slowing, and turned his head to acknowledge the knight. "What is it?"  
   
"It looks as though a storm is brewing, and some of the horses are having a hard time keeping up," Kay said, dark fringe flying around wildly as the wind whipped past them. "I'm just wondering if it wouldn't be beneficial to find a place to stop now, before the rain arrives, sire."  
   
Arthur peered up towards the sky, clouds blacker than they'd been even a few minutes before, feeling the damp humidity surrounding them until it was nearly suffocating. It was a reasonable request; the trail was thinning, the horses already struggling to find their footing on the rocky crags, and the speed with which they currently travelled was bordering on being close enough to cause concern under good weather conditions, never mind with an impending storm. At the same time, it was equally possible that they could get another good hour in before setting up camp for the night, and the idea was beyond tempting.  
   
"Let's keep riding for a while longer, and if the clouds don't appear to thin or lighten, we'll stop then," Arthur said finally, glancing at each of his men confidently. They nodded in assent and followed as Arthur began riding once more.  
   
*****  
   
As it turned out, the rain ended up holding out for far longer than Arthur had anticipated, and the first drop fell just as they finished setting up camp for the evening in a cave they'd stumbled upon purely by luck. Arthur helped prepare the meat they'd brought along for dinner, feeling the need to busy himself with tasks that he normally would leave up to Merlin, simply for the distraction.  
   
Somewhere along the line, the general mood of the group had improved considerably, jovial conversation abounding as the men ate their dinner. Arthur attempted to join them in their chatter, for what it was worth, but he found that his mind was plagued with distraction. On this day alone, four times Arthur thought he'd heard Merlin's voice, and there'd been the time when he glanced back and could have sworn he'd seen Merlin following them on horseback, but when he'd taken a second look, the image was gone. At first Arthur ignored all of these things, choosing to focus on the goal ahead, but by mid-afternoon he abandoned all notions that his mind was anything but stuck on thoughts of Merlin locked in his father's dungeon at home.  
   
So he purposely distanced himself now, sitting just back from the fire, feeling sulky and lonely even while he chided himself for the childish behaviour. Arthur, all of his life, had been raised to be strong, courageous, victorious, to persevere. His current behaviour was rather unbecoming, and he felt a little ashamed at his own mental state. Yet, no matter what tactics he employed in attempt to distract his mind from thinking and worrying about Merlin, nothing seemed to work; even images of Gwen's sweet, kind face -- which usually brought a smile to Arthur's face and a little skip to his heart -- did little to divert his attention. All in all, he was quite frustrated with the current predicament, and made a mental note to leave as early as possible tomorrow morning.  
   
A flash of blue and red at the mouth of the cave caught his eye just then, and before he was even aware of what he was doing, Arthur found his legs taking him towards the storm, peering out at the rain that pelted steadily down just a couple of feet away. His eyes scanned the forest, searching for the figure he could have sworn he'd just seen. It was completely illogical -- utterly impossible, in fact -- but Arthur couldn’t deny what he’d just seen (or thought he’d seen), and he was not about to leave Merlin to freeze, or, knowing him, to get struck by lightning. Arthur squinted, trying to focus his attention as mist from the pouring rain sprinkled across his face, matting his hair to his forehead.  
   
"Sire, what are you doing?" The sound pulled Arthur temporarily from his mission, and he turned to stare at Gawain. He shot the prince a curious look, both brows furrowing in confusion. "You're not going out there, are you?"  
   
Arthur opened his mouth to declare that _yes, he sure as hell was going out there_ , but something stopped him. There was absolutely no way Merlin could be out there following him, he knew. It was merely another illusion, as he'd experienced several times earlier on in the day. Arthur shook his head, hoping to clear it of the muddled fantasies it seemed to want to create.  
   
He heaved a sigh, then answered, "No."  
   
Gawain's eyebrows crinkled slightly, eyes still assessing. "Are you all right, my lord?" he asked after a moment.  
   
"Yes, I'm fine, thank you," Arthur lied, and turned to stare out into the downpour once more.  
   
*****  
   
Travel the next day, in spite of all the rain from the previous night, wasn't nearly as treacherous as anticipated. The trails were soppy with mud for the first half mile or so, forcing the group to travel single file as their horses slopped through the mess, but when the trees grew and expanded again, they found it was much smoother sailing from that point on. The sun still refused to shine down on them, obstinately hiding behind the protective cover of the now mostly-rain-free clouds, but they'd been fortunate enough to bear witness to a stunning, albeit brief, rainbow before the clouds had re-emerged. Arthur couldn't help but think that Merlin would have enjoyed it, then felt stupid for even having the thought at all.  
   
Once the path cleared and they were able to pick up the pace once more, the optimistic mood that'd come out the previous evening returned in full force amongst the men; a feeling of confidence in their mission had returned. For all the good cheer Arthur felt, there was a tension coiling in his shoulders throughout the day, eventually working its way down to his chest, making his muscles hurt and his head feel light. He wondered if it had to do with the weather, the fact that they were riding towards a camp of bandits who'd employed a sorcerer that very well may have left magic pockets in his wake, or if there was an entirely different explanation all together. No matter the reason, Arthur felt quite certain that after a good night's rest, he would feel much better.   
   
*****  
   
It was on the third day of riding, when they were approximately half a day away from their destination, that Arthur was beginning to think something was really wrong with him. He'd been on the verge of either screaming or, embarrassingly enough, _crying_ , most of the morning, and for the most outlandishly ridiculous reasons. First it was because Gawain asked him if he'd double checked the map that morning, and Arthur hadn't appreciated his judgemental tone of voice. Next, his steed refused to take an offered carrot from his hand when they'd stopped to rest, even though he'd eaten one of Kay's earlier that morning. He’d been tempted to bash his head against a tree in order to put a halt to the madness at that point. The third time it happened, Arthur had just found one of Merlin's neckerchiefs stuffed in his horse's saddle, having not noticed it previously and not having the faintest idea of where it came from. It was enough to make him miss the man all over again, and had Gerraint not been eyeing him curiously, he might've lost it right then and there.  
   
Then there was the fact that the muscle tension he'd been experiencing during the day prior hadn't worn off, and in fact had become worse, extending even to his hands and feet. It wasn't a physical pain, per se, but it was more as though every part of his body was in a state of extremely high stress -- his muscles were on edge, his head throbbed with a dull pain, his heart rate was quick and laboured in spite of no excess physical exertion, and he felt like his head was stuck in some sort of fog, feeling light-headed and disconnected from the world around him. Additionally, Arthur was sweating beyond what the temperature and their pace deemed logical. So the physical, coupled with the emotional, symptoms he'd been experiencing the last couple of days led Arthur to conclude that something was very wrong with him, and he desired nothing more than finding this group of insurgents and eliminating their threat, so he could finally get home.  
   
The gang of bandits they’d been seeking gained the upper hand and ambushed their party unexpectedly about an hour later. It was with those racing thoughts, and the general physical malady he felt, that Arthur concluded was a major contributing factor. Arthur hadn't heard anything to signify that anyone was approaching -- which would have been more than disconcerting, if he'd had time to think on it for a moment -- but then there was a rather large group of surly men with swords and clubs surrounding them, and the fight was happening before anyone even had time to process what was going on.  
   
Arthur's eyes scanned his surroundings as he unsheathed his sword, vaulting off his horse and putting them on more equal ground. Within a few seconds, he'd determined that there were six of them in total, and that even for bandits, their skills were fairly advanced. But in spite of this fact, they were no match for his knights. One of the larger men went after Arthur, wielding a club, but Arthur was easily able to dance out of his reach. The man towered over Arthur -- a veritable giant in their midst -- and his muscles literally bulged out from under his tight tunic. But his height and large build made his movements slow, and in the end, Arthur knew it would be his downfall.  
   
The man wheeled around, furious, swinging his club at Arthur as if he meant business this time. Arthur jumped back, the club missing him by a long shot, and the giant growled in frustration. Arthur glanced behind him to briefly assess the situation before returning his attention to his attacker. This time, instead of swinging his club, he lunged directly for Arthur, and Arthur ducked and rolled out of the way in response. By the time the man processed what was happening, he was unable to stop the forward momentum, and ended up diving through the air when he tripped over an exposed tree root on the ground. Arthur wasted no time in using the situation to his advantage, impaling him as he fought to get up.  
   
Wiping a hand across his incredibly sweaty brow, Arthur glanced up to see how the rest of his men were faring against the other bandits. It appeared that they had the situation under control, and Arthur felt a swell of pride rise up in him at another job well done. Then, unexpectedly, Arthur's world began to swim in front of his very eyes, and for a few moments he felt dizzy and light-headed, like he might pass out. Bending forward, Arthur rested hands on his knees and fought against a wave of nausea, once again wondering what the hell was going on.  
   
It was in this state that he heard the warning cry, "Sire, watch out!" But by that point it was already too late.  
   
Before Arthur even had a chance to right himself, someone had jumped him from behind, sending him crashing to the ground, sword flying out of his hand and out of reach. Instinctively, Arthur rolled with the momentum, managing to throw his opponent off of his back in the process. His eyes darted around wildly, searching for his fallen sword while simultaneously struggling to keep his head upright as his world continued to spin out of control.  
   
A second later, Arthur noticed the gleam from his sword several feet away, hilt pointed in his direction. He scrambled to his feet, feeling clumsy and uncoordinated, making a dive for the weapon in the most graceless movement of his life. Arthur landed just short of the sword, fingers stretching to grab hold of it, but his attacker reached him first, swinging his own sword down towards Arthur in an arc. Arthur managed to roll out of the way, just in time, and as the man fumbled to recover from smashing his sword against the hard ground, Arthur was able to scramble over to grab hold of his weapon.  
   
This time the attack was entirely anticipated, and Arthur easily parried the blow. They fought for several minutes -- Arthur could feel his knights surrounding them protectively, but at his signal, they held off on any action -- Arthur finding he was having more difficulties shaking the man than normal as his vision continued to remain unfocussed. But then the bandit stumbled just slightly, and it was enough to give Arthur room for an attack, clipping his now defenceless left side. The man cried out, dropping to one knee, and Arthur was ready to use the opportunity to finish the fight.

This was it. Arthur's grip tightened on his sword, but just as he was about to strike his enemy down, the sight that met him nearly stopped his heart in his chest. Arthur was no longer aiming his sword at his attacker, but at Merlin instead. Merlin with his scruffy dark hair, silly ears, and angular face, and stark red neckerchief. He frowned at Arthur, simultaneously fearful and disapproving, hands held up in surrender as his eyes swam with tears, and Arthur couldn’t believe he thought he ever had anything to fear from the prince.

"Sire? _Sire_!"  
   
Arthur blinked, and suddenly his attacker’s face returned. The bandit took advantage of Arthur’s temporary confusion and shoved him back. He tumbled backwards in shock, collapsing to the ground with a laboured groan, sword slipping from his grasp, and he was completely open to attack once more.  
   
Fingers clawed at the ground in a futile attempt to find his dropped weapon, but before Arthur could even react beyond acknowledging that he was possibly about to die, again, another sword whipped through the air, embedding itself directly in the bandit's chest, and he toppled over, dead on impact.  
   
Two pairs of hands were immediately at his side, helping Arthur to stand, and he was vaguely aware of voices speaking around him, but couldn't quite make out the words. He thought it sounded something like, "Are you all right?" but didn't have time to figure it out, as he crumpled to the ground, world fading to black.

* * *

  
   
The first time Arthur awoke, it was to the bounce of a galloping horse, head bobbing side to side, the pounding in his skull bordering on excruciating. A strong arm was wrapped around his waist, holding him firmly in the saddle, but Arthur hadn't the foggiest clue who was riding with him or what'd happened in the first place.  
   
"I think he's waking up! Stop riding," a voice called from some place nearby. The sound was disarmingly distant and close at the same time.  
   
Arthur tried to ask about Merlin as they slowed to a halt, but the words refused to form in his throat, coming out as stunted groan instead.

Arthur craned his neck as he was hefted down from his horse, looking around frantically for any sign of Merlin, but he couldn't see him. Multiple arms held his listless limbs, voices mingling together in a cacophony of discordant noises, but Arthur could decipher none of it. Tired eyes drooped heavily, and before he was even on the ground, he saw black once more.  
   
*****  
   
The second time Arthur awoke it was to the sound of hushed arguing. Warmth washed over him, and if the plush mattress beneath his back and heavy blanket covering his chest was any indication, he was no longer riding on a horse through the forest. Every muscle in his body ached, as if he'd been beaten to within an inch of his life, and the exhaustion he felt at merely expending energy to remain conscious was practically overwhelming.  
   
Still, he eventually forced open his eyes, searching for the source of the sounds. Two greyish brown blobs at the foot of his bed gradually cleared in his hazy vision and he recognised the voices before he could physically make out who each person was.  
   
"Gaius, you can't be serious," Uther grumbled, clearly unimpressed.  
   
"I'm afraid that I'm deathly serious, my lord."  
   
"You mean to tell me that my son is suffering as a result of this _bond_? Whatever it is."  
   
There was a long pause. "It would appear so. From the sounds of it, Merlin collapsed around the same time as Arthur did, sire."  
   
"And you're telling me that putting them in the same room together is the only cure?"  
   
Arthur's head began to pound then, like a battering ram suddenly decided to break through from the inside of his skull, just above his eye sockets, and he was compelled to close his eyes once more, willing the pain away.  
   
"No, not exactly. I'm sure both will recover regardless, but I've been doing some reading into soul bonding, and it would appear that the closer they are to one another, the hastier the recovery."  
   
Uther snorted like it was the most preposterous thing he'd ever heard, that surely something this absurd could not be happening in his court, to his son, of all people. "This is utter madness, Gaius. Under any other circumstances, that sorcerer would be dead already, and now you want me to put him in the _same room_ as my son?"  
   
"I'm not telling you to do anything, sire." There was an unequivocally stern tone to the physician's voice then, and when Arthur chanced another peep, he could just barely make out the hands that rested on both hips as Gaius boldly stared down the king of Camelot. He was one of very few people who could get away with such a thing -- probably no more than three or four people in total, for the entire length of his reign -- and in that sense, Gaius very much reminded him of Merlin. "All I'm saying is that it is probably in Arthur's best interest if Merlin was in the room with him."  
   
Arthur's ears perked up slightly at this, and he anxiously awaited his father's response, suddenly filled with the knowledge that he'd been thinking of Merlin before all this happened, and how he desperately wished his manservant were here in the room at this very moment, even if he couldn't quite explain why that was.  
   
Uther grumbled something that Gaius made him repeat, but Arthur was out like a light once more before catching his father's reply.   
   
*****  
   
The third time Arthur awoke, the room was darker than it'd been previously, candlelight casting shadows across the back walls as his eyes struggled to adjust. He was instantly aware of two things. The first being that he felt considerably better, perhaps only like he'd had a particularly intensive training session instead of a near-death beating. The second was that there were several guards standing watch in his room, and that Merlin lay on a bedroll on the floor a few feet from the edge of his bed, curled into a tight ball. It may have been the light, but Merlin's skin appeared even more ashen than usual, dark hair matted to his forehead, cheekbones standing out prominently, dark rings underneath his eyelids, visible even in the darkened room. He looked sick, as though he hadn't slept in days, and Arthur wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in a blanket and take away his sickness or pain, no matter what it took. It'd been over a week since he'd last seen Merlin, as far as he figured, and a nearly overpowering wave of affection for Merlin washed over Arthur, throwing his system out of sorts as he struggled to comprehend this new development in his still sleep-muddled mind.  
   
It was then that he noticed two round, blue eyes peering up at him inquisitively, and in spite of his current situation, Arthur couldn't quite hold back the smile that touched his lips as he met Merlin's gaze.   
   
"Merlin," he said, the voice warm and soothing as it rolled easily off his tongue.  
   
Merlin squirmed uncomfortably on the mat, wriggling his shoulders and legs about, and shifted so he was lying on his back instead. But his responding grin was enough to send a jolt of heat through Arthur's veins and the affection he felt only intensified.  
   
"What are you doing here?" he asked, taking a moment to close his heavy eyes.  
   
"I don't know." Shoulders quirked lazily. "I was in some special room under Gaius' care after I passed out, and then the next thing I know, I'm here."  
   
Arthur tried to nod, but his head wasn't cooperating with him. For the time being, he found he was only able to process a couple of things; Merlin appearing very uncomfortable lying on the floor happened to be one of them. The other was that he was filled to the brim with the longing to be closer to him somehow, though he couldn't explain why. In spite of his diminished cognitive functioning at the moment, it didn't take Arthur long to figure out how both goals could be reasonably accomplished.  
   
"Come here," Arthur instructed, feebly waving an inviting hand in his general direction.  
   
Merlin squinted at him in question. "What are you talking about?"  
   
"The bed, you idiot," he said, with far less vigour and assertion than he would've liked, though it was understandable, given the circumstances.  
   
"I can't do that!" Merlin gaped at him.   
   
Arthur expelled a longsuffering sigh. "Yes, you can. Just climb up here."  
   
"No," the volume of Merlin's voice dropped significantly, even though the guards posted around the room would still be able to hear him. "I can't. They wouldn't let me," he said, shifting his eyes from Arthur to the guards in a completely obvious attempt at subtlety.  
    
Arthur managed to shake his head, actively forcing his eyes to stay open, much as they fought valiantly against him. "It's fine. They're not going to stop you. Just get over here. Now."  
   
"Mmm," Merlin mumbled, rolling onto his side again so he faced Arthur, muffling a wide yawn in the process. It took him several minutes to get on his hands and knees, shuffling unsteadily towards the bed. Arthur inched forward as well, propping himself up on one arm and freeing the other to drag Merlin into the bed. The resulting struggle to move Merlin from the floor to the bed was nearly comical, both still too weak to accomplish the task on their own, despite their mutual resolve. Eventually, the knights standing guard opted to step in and lift Merlin the rest of the way into the bed, and it was nothing if not slightly awkward, but neither seemed to care all that much.

Arthur managed to slide himself over so that Merlin wasn't hanging off the edge of the bed and they settled down quickly, close enough to feel heat from each other's bodies, but not so close that they were physically touching, much as the desire was welling up inside of him.  
   
It didn’t take long for Arthur to fall asleep, the gentle sounds of Merlin breathing lulling him into a state of contentment, and the last thought he had as he drifted off was that he hadn’t felt this good in a very long time.   
   
*****  
   
The fourth time Arthur awoke, he felt Merlin shift in the bed, and found his arm resting atop Arthur's. Without much thought, Arthur slid his hand down and clasped Merlin’s fingers in his own, entwining their hands beneath the blankets.

Just as Arthur was drifting back to sleep he felt a barely imperceptible squeeze of their joined hands from Merlin. Arthur turned his face into the pillow and fell back asleep with a smile tugging at his lips.

* * *

It was a whole twenty-four hours after Merlin and Arthur were reunited before Arthur woke up again, except this time was different. This time he felt _alive_ again, free from soreness and aches and emotional misery. Without actually opening his eyes, Arthur reached an arm out blindly and was surprised when he didn’t find another warm body beside him. Prying his eyes open, Arthur quickly assessed the situation. It only took a moment to discover that the bed was vacant, save for Arthur, and he briefly wondered if he'd simply imagined the whole thing with Merlin. He wouldn't be surprised, given recent events. But sheets were rumpled on the other side of the bed, pillow indented and there was still a slight dip in the mattress. Gaius bustled about in his chambers, but he could not see signs of anyone else's presence.  
   
Arthur felt his disappointment sink in immediately, though he tried valiantly to mask it in front of Gaius.  
   
He scrubbed a hand across his face, and then turned towards Gaius, speaking with as much casual indifference as he could muster. "Where did Merlin go?" Arthur reluctantly pushed himself into a seated position, arms stretched up towards the ceiling and he tossed his head back with a yawn.   
   
"He's been moved back to the dungeons, sire," Gaius responded. He stood over at the table, mixing the contents of two small vials into a larger container.   
   
Arthur frowned as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and edged forward until both feet came in contact with the cold stone floor. "Why?" he asked.  
   
Gaius glanced up, both hands holding vials suspended in the air, as his focus temporarily switched to Arthur. "Because you were both on the mend, sire, and your father felt it was no longer necessary to have you remain in the same room," Gaius said, before returning his attention to the concoction he was mixing.   
   
Arthur's frown intensified for a moment. He knew it was stupid, but he couldn't seem to fight back the need he felt to be near to Merlin, and he now had no means with which to make that happen. It had been the driving force behind every action he took while on the mission, and it was frustrating to know that it'd all been for naught. Arthur tested one foot, leaning heavily to the side, and when he didn't instantly topple over, decided to give the other foot a go as well. He padded carefully across the room and moved to stand across from Gaius.

“So, what happened to me?” Arthur asked.

“Well, as far as I know, sire, you defeated the bandits you’d been seeking, and then passed out.”

Arthur arched a brow. “Why?”

Gaius glanced up at him. “I’m not entirely sure, but I think it had to do with your bond. You were separated from Merlin by a great distance, and I think that it caused the bond to react. From the information I’ve been able to gather, it would seem that Merlin passed out around the same time as you, sire.”

Arthur nodded thoughtfully, reflecting on how he’d been feeling just prior to passing out. “I felt terrible shortly beforehand. Sweating, tired, dizzy, and my muscles ached. Do you think that was part of it, or something else entirely?”

“I would imagine it was related to the bond, sire. Merlin had been complaining of similar ailments approximately a day or two before he passed out. It seems consistent with the available knowledge about soul bonds, so I think it would be logical to assume so.”

“And why was Merlin brought to my chambers?” Not that he was complaining.

“I was able to do some further research into soul bonds, and it appeared as though the bonded are able to heal faster after a separation by being in close proximity to one another. It seemed to have been successful.” Gaius paused. "Here, drink this," he said, holding out a cup for Arthur to take.   
   
Arthur accepted the cup, sniffing at its contents and decided that he did not like where this was going. If the smell wafting towards him was any indication, Arthur suspected this might be a new method of torture his father was trying out via the court physician.

"What is it?" he asked, holding the container at arm's length and squinting at it, as though that might somehow make it seem less vulgar.  
   
"Something to make you feel better," was his only response.  
   
"I doubt that," Arthur mumbled quietly to himself, then added for good measure, "I feel fine, I don't need anything to drink."  
   
The look Gaius shot him was nothing short of terrifying, raising the question of how an elderly, somewhat frail, and grandfatherly man could be so frightening. But Arthur knew that it'd be a losing battle if he tried to avoid downing the disgustingly pungent liquid. He flopped into the nearest chair in defeat. Gaius pointedly ignored him as he bustled about the table, cleaning up.  
   
"I need to go and let your father know you're awake," Gaius said, rubbing his hands on the front of his tunic. "He wanted to speak with you as soon as you were well. Don't forget to drink up." And without any further fanfare, he toddled out of the room.  
   
Arthur glared at the glass still clutched in his hands, screwed his eyes shut, and drank the entire contents in one go, feeling the burn as the disgusting concoction slithered down his throat.


	5. Chapter 5

**This Dark Road Will Lead Us Where We Want to Be -- Part Five**

Arthur was summoned to his father's chambers an hour later. He hailed a couple of passing servants to bring him lunch and water for a bath, and once fed and cleaned up, reluctantly made his way over to see his father.

Similarly to the last time, Uther paid him very little attention as he entered the room, all of his focus directed at stacks of papers strewn across the large oak desk he sat behind. Arthur wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or worried by this behaviour, but he kept his mouth shut.

"I heard your mission was a success," Uther announced, with a vague sense of detachment, a few minutes later. Arthur wondered when the other boot would drop, and when the livid, burning rage he knew was there, kept in check just beneath the surface, would finally burst through.  
   
"It was, sire," Arthur answered carefully, folding his hands behind his back and openly eyeing his father with a measure of justified trepidation.  
   
Uther carried on ignoring his son, stacking and re-stacking various piles of parchment. "Now that you are well, I have another mission for you." Arthur blinked, quirked a brow, but clamped his mouth shut, waiting for the explanation that was forthcoming.  
   
A few moments later, Uther lifted his head, face hardened, eyes like cold steel, and it took all of Arthur's internal strength not to look away from his piercing gaze. "You are to figure out how to break this ridiculous bond you've created with your manservant, and then proceed to do just that," Uther instructed him with cool resolve, raising a hand to silence any protests that might arise. But Arthur's breath was caught in his throat, tongue feeling like it was two sizes too big for his mouth.  
   
"I will give you one week to resolve this issue, and if it has not been resolved by then, I will take matters into my own hands," he said, folded hands resting lightly on the table in front of him.  
   
Arthur felt a spike of fear rise in him, but he pushed it back down, knowing that he needed to be strong right now. "What does that mean?" he asked, even tone belying the anxiety that was steadily rising in the pit of his stomach, though he truthfully wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer.

“It means,” Uther said, “that if you are unable to break the bond, then I will find a way to do so myself, and I can guarantee you that the process will not be an enjoyable one. This execution has been held up long enough as is.”

Arthur felt his mouth run dry, nausea bubbling in the pit of his stomach. “But you can’t...”

“I can, and I will,” Uther interrupted, tone implying there was no room for argument. He heaved a sigh and stared hard at Arthur. “I had hoped that with some time apart, reason would take hold of your mind once more, but I see that hasn’t happened.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed into tiny slits. “What are you talking about?”

“Risking your life for a servant, Arthur? This is utter foolishness, and we both know it. You are a _prince_ , with loyal subjects, many of whom will put their own lives in danger for you while you rule. You cannot prevent each and every one of their deaths. It is complete madness.”

"But Father," Arthur protested, attempting to quash the anger that was steadily building. He felt sick at the thought of his efforts being wasted, of losing it all now. "Merlin saved my _life_. I'd already be dead, were it not for him. He's been watching out for me for the past two years. He’s saved _your_ life as well. How can I allow him to die, when he has risked his life for mine, numerous times over?"

Uther, for his part, did not appear moved by his speech. “You’ve made your point, and I am grateful that you are still alive, but I cannot bend the laws simply because of your affection for the sorcerer.”

Arthur sucked in a deep breath, willing his racing heart to slow, fury now hitting him full force. How could his father be this blind... this consumed with hatred? Merlin had never done anything to hurt anyone, and yet Uther was still content to allow him to die. “What about human decency, then? Merlin has done no wrong. Last I checked, saving the Crown Prince’s life was worthy of honour, not death. One punishment is not necessarily suitable for all. You’re allowing your own biases to supersede your logic--”

Uther stopped him mid-tirade.

"I have had enough of this _ridiculous_ behaviour, Arthur. I don't care if Merlin is your servant or your friend or your lover." Arthur bristled. Uther continued without missing a beat, either not noticing or not caring about the manner in which Arthur reacted to his words. "I don't care if he is a high ranking knight with a lifetime of service or a nameless peasant. He is a sorcerer and has broken the laws of Camelot, and that is not something I can ignore. Something I _will not_ ignore, for any reason. They are all the same -- evil and rotten to the core; lying and deceiving -- and you would do well to remember that."

It was the same attitude, the same perspective that he’d come up against time and time again. Nothing changed... nothing ever would, that much was clear now. “What if I refuse to break my bond with Merlin?” Arthur asked, voice filled with all the defiance he could muster at once.

“Then I will break the bond myself.”

”You don’t know how to do that,” Arthur accused.

Uther continued to stare at him coldly. “I’ll find a way. And it will not be pleasant, make no mistake.” 

“I won’t allow you to kill Merlin!” Arthur folded arms across his chest.

This was not what Uther wanted to hear, and in a swift move that belied the king's worn and aged muscles, he was up and out of his seat, slamming a fist down on the table with enough force to shatter any other man's wrist. “And I won’t allow my son to die for some misguided quest masked under the guise of nobility and honour!”

Arthur swallowed around the wrath that ate away at his stomach, working its way up his chest like a slithering snake. This was what it’d come down to, then. Arthur supposed he should have been grateful that Uther still valued his life over sending a sorcerer to his death, but was unsurprised to find that it provided him with very little in the way of comfort.

Uther continued to glare, but some of the fight seemed to have dissipated from his posture. "You will find a way to un-bond yourself from your manservant, and he will be executed in one week’s time. Do I make myself clear?" he demanded, stepping towards Arthur who remained rooted to the spot.  
   
"Yes, sire," Arthur said through clenched teeth, internally curling in on himself at this defeat. He ducked his head in feigned reverence, and immediately took his leave, heading for the one person he knew might be able to help.  
   


* * *

  
   
"Sire, you need to calm down," Gaius instructed kindly, reaching a hand out to the man pacing back and forth in his chambers, eyes and mouth crinkled with worry.  
   
"I am calm," he lied, forehead creasing as he waved the physician's hands away. "I just need to figure out how to fix this situation." Arthur was no fool; he knew that this was not a bluff, and that his father really would follow through with his promise of seeking retribution, blinded by hatred and years of rash decisions that were now second nature. He'd feared things would come to this eventually, but between running off to take care of the threat on the southern border and being unconscious for the better portion of a week, Arthur simply hadn't found the time to prepare ahead of time. Not that it would have done any good, as it was beginning to look as though Gaius wasn't even sure how to help.  
   
"I can appreciate your concern, sire; however, there isn't necessarily a quick solution to this problem," Gaius informed him, turning his back to Arthur and heading off to retrieve a few books from the back shelf. "I care about Merlin too, and I promise to help you both in any way that I can."  
   
"I know you do," Arthur said, finally stilling as he watched Gaius struggle to pull two large tomes from a higher shelf. He shook his head and went over to offer his assistance. The idea that he should say something else prickled at the back of his mind, but he couldn't seem to figure out what to say that would be helpful, so instead Arthur assisted Gaius with transporting the tomes from the bookshelf to his worktable in silence.  
   
At first, Arthur helped Gaius as he searched through pages and pages of the tomes, keeping their eyes peeled for anything that might be of relevance (even though Arthur wasn't quite sure what that might be; and he desperately wished Merlin were there with them, as he probably would've been far more helpful than Arthur, who’d never done a day of actual research in his life). But after several hours of fruitless searching, long past the setting of the sun, Arthur was back to pacing. He wasn't normally like this, was usually in complete control -- or at least was putting up the facade of being in control -- but Arthur was acutely aware of the fact that he was slowly losing his patience and his resolve.   
   
"Sire?" Gaius interrupted his pacing after many long minutes, voice sharp, just the slightest hint of annoyance evident in his tone.   
   
Arthur glanced over at him. "What?"  
   
Frail, tired eyes met his, and for the first time Arthur could see how worn out Gaius looked -- skin pale, dark circles lining his eyes, shoulders slumped -- and he felt a stab of guilt at being so impatient with him. He was only trying to help, as he always did. Clearly Merlin had learned the fine art of listening, while Arthur carried on in prideful bliss; he felt ashamed for his recent behaviour, no matter how worried he was about Merlin. "I know that you're concerned, but you've been sick recently. You need to get your rest. Why don't you go to sleep? We can continue with the search in the morning," Gaius suggested, sounding more tired than anything else now. It was worded kindly, but there was no doubt as to its intent -- Arthur was politely being told to sod off, as his presence was clearly not contributing to a solution.  
   
Arthur sighed heavily, scrubbing a hand across his face as he bit back a yawn. It was true that he was exhausted, but Arthur couldn't allow Gaius to stay up all night and figure out the solution to a problem that rested solely on his own shoulders. Arthur would remain there as long as it took, because there wasn't anything else he could do, and failing Merlin was still not an option.  
   
"I'm sorry, Gaius. I've been allowing this whole situation to get to me, and that's not fair to you," Arthur said, making his way back over to the table that Gaius sat hunched over. "Tell me what I can do to help and I will. I have no doubt that you and Merlin have done this countless times in the past for my benefit. The least I can do is return the favour." He smiled, hoping the physician would accept his apology.  
   
Gaius eyed him with a mild air of suspicion, but after a moment he nodded, satisfied. "All right, let's get to work then."  
   


* * *

   
   
Morning arrived far quicker than anticipated, rays of light from the sun just beginning to stream in through the window as Arthur awoke. Gaius was nowhere to be seen. Arthur pushed himself up off the table he'd sprawled across some time very late the night before, and was embarrassed to see a little spot of drool on the table beside where his face had previously been resting. Several books and various stray pages lay strewn across the table, bench and even parts of the floor. The workshop was not usually known for impeccable tidiness -- Merlin lived there, after all -- but the current state of the room truly was a disaster.  
   
After Arthur spent a few minutes puttering around uselessly, Gaius returned from his outing, carrying yet another brown tome under his arms.   
   
"Were you able to find something?" Arthur asked, hopeful, as he rose from the table and met Gaius halfway.  
   
"Yes, it would appear so," Gaius said. He acknowledged Arthur with a nod of his head and made his way back towards the workbench, still carrying the tome. Arthur followed him.  
   
The tome was old and dirty, clouds of dust exploding into the air with each turn of a yellow, weathered page. As Gaius flipped through the book, Arthur waved his hands around in a failed attempt to disperse some of the particles away from their lungs. Finally Gaius reached what he was looking for, a spindly finger tapping at the appropriate page as he met Arthur's intent gaze.  
   
"Early this morning, I was reading about human-animal connections and suddenly I was reminded of something I'd heard once from folklore about soul bonding, though more specifically, the breaking of bonds. So I asked Geoffrey to release some texts to me and after an extensive search, I found this." His finger struck the page once more.  
   
Arthur quirked a brow. "What is it?"  
   
"There is a legend of a high priestess of the Old Religion who is responsible for overseeing higher order magicks. She is rumoured to have the ability to reverse spells, grant access to dangerous magic, and break magical soul bonds. There is no written record of her of in nearly a decade, but it would appear that she is more than merely a myth. Or was, at the very least. I found similar information in a second text as well."  
   
This was good news. Right? He repeated the thought out loud.  
   
Gaius nodded, still tapping the paper, though he continued to frown. "Yes, I suppose you could call it good news, sire."  
   
"You don't sound very excited," Arthur said, folding his arms across his chest and waiting for further explanation.  
   
Gaius peered up at him through the lenses of his spectacles. "That's because there is a great amount of risk involved here, sire. I don't know if this high priestess can still be found, but even if she could, according to the records, the trials required in order to remove a soul bond are incredibly trying and dangerous. That alone could kill you, never mind what actually breaking the bond might do to you both. The records also suggest that successful soul bonds are very rare, past attempts to break them even more so. Of course, there's also the stipulation that both of the bonded are present in order to complete the trials and break the bond, and we both know Uther won't allow Merlin to leave with you." Gaius paused, gave him a meaningful look.

“You’re not going to insist that I stop pursuing this?” Arthur asked after a moment, certain that the sentiment was lurking just below the surface.

But Gaius just shook his head, looking nothing short of resigned. “I considered not telling you, sire.” Arthur shot him a look, complete with narrowed eyes, but the man appeared far less penitent than would be expected. “However, I know how committed you are to helping Merlin, and I’ve no doubt that you might have sought an alternate, and possibly even more dangerous, solution to this problem.”

Arthur still wasn’t convinced. “And you’re fine with this plan, for Merlin and me to ride off and find this high priestess to break our soul bond?”

The old man frowned. “Of course I’m not. I don’t know that you fully appreciate the gravity of this situation, sire. But if your father follows through with his threat, which I have no doubt that he will, Merlin will end up dead anyway, and you may also put yourself at further risk. At least this way, there is a chance for Merlin, even if I don’t like the idea of you both putting yourself at such peril."

Arthur started to pace slowly, thoughtful, arms still crossed. "If I can convince my father to release Merlin in order to break the bond and then somehow persuade Merlin to stay away from Camelot, at least he'd be safe until I ascend to the throne," he said.  
   
"He won't leave," Gaius said, and it annoyed Arthur to have that fact constantly pointed out, even though he was well aware of its truth.  
   
"Then I will bloody well make him," Arthur insisted, knowing he sounded childish but not really caring. "It's either that, or I find some other way to smuggle him out of the city, but we would still be bonded, even if I did that. Additionally, I'm not sure either of us would be able to remain bonded and handle being apart for that long, if what happened last time was any indication." He ran a hand through his hair, feeling frustrated at a hypothetical situation, and decided that that was a problem for another day.  
   
"Arthur, as I have already stated, I do not believe that this is a wise idea." Gaius sighed, shoulders slumping minutely. "However, I know that you're going to do it anyway. In which case, I would rather offer you my assistance in any way I am able, rather than waste my energy trying to fight you on this. You've always been a determined young lad, even as a small child." He uttered the last sentence with just an inkling of a smile, and Arthur returned the gesture in kind. He was grateful to have Gaius' support, reluctant as it may have come; Uther'd always had a soft spot for his old friend, and perhaps he was just the weapon necessary to convince the king to release Merlin into Arthur's custody for this journey.  
   
"Thank you, Gaius," he eventually said. They wasted no time getting down to business.

* * *

  
   
A couple hours of planning and strategising took them until mid-morning, and the sun gleamed radiantly in the sky as if it were meant to be a perfectly lovely day. Arthur knew otherwise, but he enjoyed the confidence the warm summer heat imbued in him. The workshop, in spite of being rather shielded from the sun, was already warming steadily.  
   
After Gaius pointed out the high priestess' last known whereabouts, Arthur set out plotting the quickest and most efficient route to reach their destination. However, it quickly became apparent that it would be impossible to make it there and back within the one week deadline imposed by Uther. And there was no way of knowing how long it would take to endure the trials. In addition to requesting Merlin's presence on this journey, Arthur also needed to ask for more time. They'd recently sent word via a servant that both Arthur and Gaius sought a private council with the king, and now all that remained was to wait.  
   
Arthur sat at Gaius' workbench, spine straight, posture rigid, foot nervously bouncing up and down. He'd fought some of the finest knights in the land and various magical creatures, gargoyles and dragons, led his men into doomed battles and come out victorious, and yet a conversation with his father was what finally triggered all the anxiety and fear buried in the pit of his stomach. Gaius shot him knowing glances, sympathetic but also on edge himself, for he had something to lose in this situation as well.  
   
When the knock finally sounded on the door, both men glanced up wearily.  
   
"Please come in," Gaius called out.  
   
"The king will see you now," the young page informed them upon entering the room. Arthur looked at Gaius, and briefly caught his eye to pass along a silent encouragement, before wordlessly following the page out of the room.  
   
Uther was waiting for them when they entered the throne room, seated on his throne, same steel-cold expression firmly planted on his face as the previous times Arthur had recently met with him. There was no sign of emotion, of sympathy, of openness whatsoever, and Arthur mentally braced himself for this conversation, despite the fact that he and Gaius had planned out most of what they hoped to say earlier this morning.  
   
Uther stared at the pair, eyes darting between the two before finally settling on Arthur. His expression was guarded, unreadable, and Arthur found it unnerving that he couldn’t assess his father’s mood. "You had something you wanted to say to me?" There was no beating around the bush this time, it would seem.  
   
Arthur took a deep, steadying breath and launched into his plea. "Gaius and I -- well, Gaius really -- has figured out how to break the bond, but it requires me to leave Camelot."  
   
"As I've already said you can, accompanied by knights, of course."  
   
"Yes, I know, sire. Thank you. However, I also require an extra week to complete the journey, as the destination is further away than expected, and I wouldn't be able to get there and back in six days."

Arthur pulled out a map from his pocket, with everything intention of providing his father with visual evidence of the route he planned to travel, but Uther merely frowned, waving a dismissive hand in their direction. “Fine. Take an extra week. However, I will not grant you any more time than that.”   
   
“Thank you, sire,” Arthur responded, dipping his head gratefully in acknowledgement. At the same time, he knew the fight was about to begin. Arthur braced himself for the next appeal, deciding to speak before he lost his nerve. "I would also like to request... that Merlin come on this journey as well."

Uther blinked, as though he hadn’t been expecting Arthur to suggest something like that, eyes narrowing in the process. "That was never agreed upon. What would make you think that I would allow that sorcerer to just walk out of Camelot?"

Arthur reined his temper in; now was not the time for fighting, but persuading. "The bond can only be broken if both bonded parties are present. And even if that weren't the case, the last time Merlin and I were separated by that far of a distance, we both collapsed. I wouldn't be able to do anything anyway, in that state."  
   
”You expect me to believe that the sorcerer won’t try something the moment he’s set foot past Camelot’s borders? I know how their minds work.” Uther looked incredulously at Arthur, as though he had gone mad, and Arthur bit back a frown in return.

“Merlin? You think _Merlin_ will try something? No, you’re wrong about that.” Arthur shook his head adamantly. “Not every single person who practices magic is evil and hell-bent on our destruction.”

Uther’s eyes flashed angrily, knuckles gripping the armrests of his chair tightly. “I have never met a sorcerer who hasn’t tried to harm me or our family. You would do well to remember that, boy.”

“Can you really blame them?” Arthur shot back, throwing his arms up in the air. “When their people are being killed and persecuted, it only makes sense that some would try and retaliate.”

“Are you suggesting that we deserve the attacks directed our way? That these people are in the right?”

This was getting out of hand. They were veering vastly from the point of this meeting, which was to request permission for Merlin’s release from prison. The morality, or lack thereof, of sorcerers in general was irrelevant to this particular discussion, and yet Arthur couldn’t quite bring himself to let it go.

“Of course not,” Arthur said, biting back the anger in his tone. “But sometimes there are explanations for people’s behaviours that can help you at least understand where they’re coming from, regardless of the rightness or wrongness of their actions.”

Uther stared at Arthur, a look of dumbfounded disbelief plastered across his face.

"Sire, if I may speak?" Gaius' voice wafted in between them unexpectedly, and both heads shot to the side as he approached the father and son.  
   
Uther just glared and grunted, but it seemed to be enough of an assent for Gaius to speak. He stepped forward and folded his hands, nodding respectfully to his king. "Arthur, while working towards learning what it truly means to lead a nation, certainly has a way to go yet in his journey. And though he may be shaping up to be a fine king some day, he is still young and sometimes acts on impulse without thinking, as many of our youth do today. I know his betrayal has hurt you beyond comprehension, but I sincerely believe that he acted with good intention in his heart, no matter how misguided they may have been."  
   
Arthur blinked. This hadn't been part of their rehearsal, though it sounded genuine enough; and in spite of the fact that it painted Arthur in a less than positive light, he was willing to endure whatever comments Gaius chose to make about his person if it meant the success of their goal.  
   
Uther watched him, measuring, calculating, assessing, body tight and knuckles white, appearing as though just barely managing to keep his control in check, but he remained uncharacteristically silent.  
   
Gaius took a couple more small steps towards Uther, still affecting an air of deference that Arthur was struggling to maintain at present, and continued his plea. "However, I also know you, my lord, and I believe that you love your son. Which is why you want to protect him from his own poor decisions." Uther's eyes flicked towards Arthur for an instant, guarded but softened, before returning to Gaius. "He has a chance to correct the situation and unbind his soul, but he's not able to do that alone. Surely you will allow him to do what he needs to in order to rectify an act of youthful folly."

There was a pregnant pause, and then, “What reason do we have to believe that this information source is even reliable? How do you know that when you reach your destination, the bond will even be able to be broken?”

In truth, it was a fair question, and one that Arthur had asked himself several times since Gaius first made the discovery. However, it was the best information they had to go on, recorded in more than one place, and considering they hadn’t found a single other lead, it seemed likely that the solution to their problems lay in finding this high priestess the records spoke of.

Thankfully, Gaius chose to tackle the answer. “There is no guarantee, sire. However, the information was recorded in two reliable sources, and if my memory serves me, it is still accurate with what was known prior to the magic ban in Camelot. I suspect that this information is the most legitimate we are able to obtain.”

Uther turned his face away from them, affecting a thoughtful, if not slightly less infuriated, expression, and Arthur held his breath while they waited for a response.

"If what you say is true, then how can I know that Arthur won't send his manservant away as soon as the bond is broken?" Uther questioned, directing his attention solely towards Gaius.  
   
"I suppose you can't know that for certain, sire," Gaius said carefully, and Arthur took great care to keep his big mouth shut for once on this matter. He had absolutely no intention of returning Merlin to Camelot, and Uther likely knew this. But in the end, Gaius was pleading their case on another realm that had little to do with Merlin and everything to do with Arthur, so he allowed Gaius to continue uninterrupted. "But it may be a risk you're going to have to take anyway. As Arthur's already pointed out, the bond will prevent him from successfully reaching his destination, even if he were able to do this without the boy's assistance."

“How dangerous is this course of action?” Uther asked.

Arthur eyed Gaius, recalling their earlier conversation, and willed him not to tell the full extent of his concerns to Uther. They were already treading on thin ice as it was, even without providing Uther with the knowledge that this was still a highly risky endeavour.

“Sire, I won’t lie to you -- this could be a potentially dangerous undertaking,” Gaius said, and Arthur felt his heart plummet to his feet. “However, I believe that it is likely one of the safest methods for removing a soul bond. Certainly if anyone is able to do so, it would be Arthur.”

Uther grunted noncommittally, eyes narrowing slightly. “What does it entail?” If Arthur didn’t know any better, he would guess his father almost sounded concerned. Almost.

Gaius explained the general principle to Uther, and Arthur knew he was holding back on some of the details, but he still handed out the straight facts.

Upon finishing his explanation, silence filled the room, and Arthur felt the tension coil in his muscles as they waited for Uther to deliberate on his answer. If he decided to refuse Arthur’s request, there was little else Arthur could do. Instead he would have to rely on his father to figure out a way to unbind their souls, and he suspected nothing good could come of that. The thought of subjecting Merlin to the kind of torture that something along those lines would likely entail, without even having any chance to escape, made Arthur feel physically ill, and he found himself praying again to the gods that his father would make the right decision.

After what felt like an eternity, Uther finally answered. “I will grant you permission to go on this quest on one condition.”

Arthur blinked, attempting and failing to hide his surprise. “Anything,” he said, then immediately regretted the declaration.

“You are not to, under any circumstances, allow Merlin to escape. If he does not return with you, someone else will pay for his transgressions.”

“But Father, that’s--” Arthur protested, feeling the fury rise once more in the blink of an eye.

“I don’t care what you think. There are consequences for every action, and it’s about time that you learned what that truly means,” Uther said, voice taking on a harsher tone than it just had a few moments prior. “Swear to me that you will return _with_ Merlin.”

It was complete madness. Both Arthur and his father knew damn well that Arthur would not bring Merlin back to be executed. Though Arthur worried that Uther might still make good on his threat to punish someone else, and Arthur swore to himself that he would not allow that to happen. All the same, he was willing to agree to just about anything at this point, regardless of the truth behind his promises. “I will,” he lied.

If Uther knew or cared that Arthur was lying, he didn’t let it show on his face. “Good. You will leave tomorrow morning at dawn with three knights of my choosing. I will make sure Merlin is released and brought to you just prior to your departure. You are dismissed,” Uther said, flicking his hand curtly.

They exited the throne room in silence, walking back down the hall towards Gaius’ chambers, but it wasn’t until they were halfway there that Arthur stopped, turning to face Gaius. He was unable to keep the grateful grin off his face. “Thank you, Gaius. I don’t think I could have done that without you.”

Gaius nodded in acknowledgement, gaze fond as he stared at Arthur. “I suggest you get some rest, sire. You have a long journey ahead of you tomorrow.”

Arthur smiled, and with that thought in mind, took his leave, already anxious for morning to arrive.

* * *

Morning arrived swiftly, nerves eating away at Arthur as nightmares faded into the background where they belonged. He got himself dressed and ready for the day, bustling about his chambers in order to ensure that everything he would need had been packed. Arthur checked everything three times before he felt confident. It was a task better suited for one of the other servants in the castle, but strangely enough, Arthur didn't quite trust anyone with it save for Merlin.  
   
The stable boys were preparing the horses for the ride out by the time Arthur arrived with his supplies. He'd accosted another servant on the way out, after realising that he did not possess an extra couple of hands to carry everything. Normally, Arthur was not a big proponent of dragging around excessive baggage on short outings, but he had no idea what state Merlin would be in, and had taken it upon himself to pack a few extra amenities, just to be on the safe side.  
   
While the stable boys and servants were busy loading up the horses, Arthur stood watch just outside the building, simultaneously keeping an eye out for the men Uther picked to accompany him, as well as Merlin.  
   
From a distance, Arthur could make out two figures heading in his direction, followed closely by what Arthur assumed were their servants. As they neared, it became apparent that his father had chosen Sir Percival and Sir Caradoc to accompany him.  
   
"Sire," they acknowledged in turn, nodding respectfully in his direction as they passed.  
   
Arthur responded in kind, eyes trailing them as they took leave to see to the preparations inside the stables. Both were good men -- had served for many years under both Uther and Arthur's tutelage -- and were fiercely loyal to the king, as well as to Camelot. It made perfect sense that Uther would have chosen the two of them for a task such as this, and while Arthur believed they would never do anything to harm Merlin, he also suspected that they would do everything in their power to follow any orders given about the care of Merlin following the breaking of their soul bond. Arthur resolved to keep a close eye on them throughout the journey.  
   
A few minutes later, another knight appeared in the distance, making his way towards the stables. His tall stature, swift strides and long brown hair flying about in the wind immediately alerted Arthur to the fact that it was Sir Leon who'd been chosen as the third knight to accompany them. Something heavy in his gut loosened just a bit at the knowledge.  
   
"Good morning, sire," he greeted, eyes full of life and spirit, sounding a little more cheerful than Arthur would like or expect at this hour of the day. But perhaps his enthusiasm and positive energy would be exactly what they needed on this trip.  
   
"Good morning to you too, Sir Leon." Arthur reached out and shook his hand as he passed. Leon smiled encouragingly at him.

Arthur wasn’t sure how long it would take for the guards to bring Merlin out, so he was incredibly pleased when Gwen appeared on the scene, providing him with a welcome distraction.

“Good morning, sire,” she said, eyes dropping respectfully.

“Gwen.” Arthur smiled at her.

Gwen’s fingers twisted into her dress. “I heard about what you’re doing. Going off with Merlin, I mean.” Her eyes darted down to her feet.

Arthur nodded. He noted that Gwen was still awfully well-informed about castle happenings, even without attending to Morgana any longer. “I wasn’t exactly given much choice in the matter.”

“Do you think you’ll be all right?” she asked, concern evident.

“We’ll be fine,” Arthur said, hoping it was the truth.

Gwen studied him in silence, and Arthur eventually had to look away from her piercing gaze. She leaned in closer, dropping her voice. “What’s going to happen to Merlin after...? You’re not going to let him be executed, are you?”

Arthur quickly cast his eyes around to ensure no one was within hearing distance. “Of course not. I’m only alive now because of Merlin. I have no intention of allowing my father to persecute him for that.”

Gwen nodded, relief ghosting across her face. That seemed to be as much of an assurance as she needed, and Arthur was glad for it. “You really do care a lot for Merlin, don’t you?” she remarked, in that knowing tone Arthur was slowly becoming more familiar with. He wasn’t sure yet if he liked it, or if it made him anxious.

“I would have done it for anyone,” Arthur said, scratching at the back of his neck. He’d always believed he would do anything he could to protest the subjects of Camelot, within reason, but even Arthur couldn’t help but wonder at the truth of his words.

Gwen’s eyebrows rose slightly on her forehead.

“What?” Arthur asked, already dreading the answer.

She hesitated, until Arthur shot an imploring look in her direction. “Forgive me, sire, but, er, I don’t quite know if that’s true.”

Arthur’s eyes widened slightly before he actively forced them to narrow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Guinevere.”

“It’s just...” Her gaze darted to the ground, fingers continuing to fiddle with the front of her dress nervously. “I think what you did for Merlin goes beyond what you would do for just anyone, sire.”

“What would lead you to believe that?” Arthur asked. But he already had an idea of where she was going, and wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear it.

Checking once more to ensure that they were, indeed, still alone, Gwen leaned in closer to Arthur, invading his personal space slightly. “Well, the thing is... there was the time that you arrested me for the crime of sorcery, as well as my father, later on. And then, more recently, with Gaius. And we were all only suspected of it, whereas Merlin actually performed magic in front of your eyes...” she trailed off, allowing the implication to hang in the air.

Arthur clamped his jaw shut, blinking at Gwen. It occurred to him then that she was entirely correct on the matter, and that felt like a significant revelation, one that was shoved on him and not quite welcome. So perhaps it was true that on occasion, Arthur went the extra mile for Merlin, to protect or defend him. But he’d put in effort for others as well. The only difference was the regularity and vehemence in which he defended Merlin, and having this simple truth pointed out to him was enough to make Arthur realise there might be something to that, even if he didn’t really want to think too hard on the matter.

He wasn’t sure if he should be angry with her for even suggesting such a thing, and to someone of the royal family, no less, or thank her for her frank honesty, much as he wasn’t pleased that she’d proven him wrong. “What are you implying?” he asked, eventually.

“I’m not implying anything, sire,” Gwen said, raising a hand and shaking her head. “I just figured with the way Merlin feels about you... And your obvious concern for him... Well, I don’t know, exactly. It just seems as if... Er, never mind. I probably shouldn’t have said anything at all, I’m sorry.”

But Arthur’s mind had latched onto the ‘ _the way Merlin feels about you_ ’ part of her sentence and hadn’t been able to move past that point yet. “What do you mean? How does Merlin feel about me?” Something twisted in his stomach, not unpleasantly, but he ignored the reaction.

Gwen’s eyes widened, one hand flying to cover her mouth. “I don’t know. I mean, I’m not sure. I’ve just seen... well, anyway, it doesn’t matter. You care about one another; that’s all that’s important. I’m sorry I said anything, sire.”

If there was something else she was hiding, there was little Arthur could do to find out now, as he spotted two guards leading Merlin across the courtyard, still in chains.

“Thank you for your concern, Guinevere,” Arthur said, mind still distracted, “but I must be off.”

Her eyes followed his gaze, and she nodded in understanding. Arthur felt like he was missing something.

“Take care of yourself, sire, and be safe,” Gwen said warmly, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before taking her leave. His eyes flickered over to her retreating form for a moment before retuning his attention to Merlin.

There were people milling about all around Merlin, but Arthur’s attention remained solely focused on his approaching manservant. As he neared, Arthur could see that he looked weary and exhausted, walking with a slight hunch to his shoulders, as if he were carrying a heavy load on his back. Arthur supposed that in a way, he very much was. But there were no outward signs of injury, and for that Arthur was grateful.  
   
Merlin stumbled on something lying on the ground a few yards from where Arthur continued to stand, and he fought against every instinct in his body that screamed at him to rush over, help him out, relieve the guards of their so-called duty. And for the second time in a very short period, Arthur felt that sense of responsibility and protectiveness of Merlin wash over him in a nearly staggering wave. Still, he battled the war in his mind, managing to restrain himself from any sort of interfering action until the chains had been removed from Merlin's ankles and wrists.

The accompanying guards eyed Arthur suspiciously, and Arthur resisted the urge to glare at them, despite the fact that he would have been well within his rights to do so as prince. Nevertheless, these particular guards reported to his father, and Arthur was not about to give them any reason to put a stop to their journey, much as he may have desired to give into his childish whims. Instead, he took two calming breaths, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth, before sauntering casually over to Merlin, who had yet to take his eyes off of Arthur since the moment he'd been close enough to see.  
   
“Are you feeling all right, Merlin?” Arthur asked, placing a warm hand on Merlin’s back as he came to stand beside him.  
   
Merlin cast a sceptical glance at the guards standing a few feet away before turning haggard eyes on Arthur. “I’m just a bit tired,” he admitted, smiling softly.  
   
Arthur leaned in closer, dropping his voice so the guards wouldn’t be able to hear. “Do you think you’ll be able to do this?” he asked, nose nearly brushing against Merlin’s ear.  
   
“I don’t think I really have much of a choice, do I?” Merlin said, and Arthur couldn’t help but shrug in response. “But I’d rather be with you than locked up in the dungeons.”  
   
A feeling of warmth washed over him, and Arthur met Merlin’s gaze, affectionate and sincere. Arthur’s fingers stroked a gentle pattern into the fabric at Merlin’s back, and Merlin leaned back into his touch, just barely. The thought crept up suddenly, invading his consciousness so quickly he barely had time to process it. It stated that this was right, how they were meant to be – not separated, but together. And for the first time, Arthur felt an appreciation for their supposed destiny, the one Merlin had spoken of and the one Arthur was still coming to terms with. It was quite unlike anything he’d ever felt before, and Arthur struggled to give name to what feeling was racing through his mind.   
   
“Sire, we’re ready to leave,” Caradoc announced, shattering his thoughts and pulling Arthur back to the present moment. Arthur shook his head to clear it of questions for the time being.  
   
“You ready?” Arthur asked Merlin, clapping him on the back and gazing over at him fondly, remembering the guards carefully watching his every move only too late.  
   
"I think so," Merlin replied, then nodded. They made their way into the stables, and within a few minutes, they were off.


	6. Chapter 6

**This Dark Road Will Lead Us Where We Want to Be -- Part Six**

They stopped early that evening, having covered a lot of ground for one day. With the extra week that Uther had allotted them, Arthur was in no hurry to speed along this process. The quicker they moved, the sooner the breaking of the bond would occur, which meant that Arthur would need to say good-bye to Merlin, and the idea of it filled his heart with a dull ache that he preferred not to dwell on.

"Caradoc and Percival, please stay here with Merlin and help set up camp. Leon and I will go and find us some game for our dinner," Arthur instructed. The knights nodded, Leon moving to retrieve his bow and quiver of arrows. Merlin fixed Arthur with a stare that implied he was on the verge of protesting the decision, but Arthur put a stop to any outward disobedience by pointing a single finger in his direction menacingly.   
   
Once they'd gathered their things, Leon and Arthur headed away from the camp. Arthur led slowly, picking his way through the brush and tall grass, the only sounds that of boots sinking into the soft, mossy ground, and the merry chirp of birds. Once Arthur felt they were far enough away from the others without having to worry about being overheard, he stopped and glanced back over his shoulder at his companion.

"What is it, sire?" Leon asked, voice hushed and low.  
   
Arthur swallowed, feeling nervous all of a sudden, but he shoved it aside. He was fairly confident in his decision to trust Leon. "I know I've already asked a great deal of you in the last several weeks, but I need your assistance once more."  
   
Leon continued to stare at him, expression curious but otherwise masking any other emotions he felt. "What do you need, sire?"  
   
"I need you to help us separate from the rest of the group. Merlin and I must do this on our own. If we're able to break the bond, I cannot allow him to be captured and returned to Camelot to be executed. No matter what my father believes, I will not see someone die for saving my life."  
   
Silence hung between them for a moment as birds continued to happily chatter on in ignorant bliss, and Arthur noted with great concern that Leon had averted his gaze to the ground. While it was true that the knight seemed sympathetic to both him and Merlin throughout this whole ordeal, that didn't mean that his loyalties had strayed from the king. Arthur felt foolish for even suggesting such an idea to Leon, as he was essentially requesting that Leon commit treason against the crown, and he mentally berated himself for taking the risk while simultaneously plotting how he could talk his way out of the situation and still achieve his desired end result.  
   
"I understand, my lord," Leon eventually said, just as Arthur was about to launch into a new explanation.  
   
He paused, both brows shooting up to the top of his forehead in surprise. "You do?" Arthur asked, and there was no hiding the disbelief in his tone.   
   
"Yes. This is something you need to do alone, without any of us hindering you, sire," Leon said, cocking his head to one side, assessing. "Your loyalty to Merlin is admirable, sire."  
   
There was nothing suggestive or accusatory in his tone; in fact, it seemed quite genuine. But there was a knowing quality to Leon's voice, as if he understood exactly what Arthur meant even when he himself wasn't entirely sure, and he found he couldn't quite prevent the heat from rising in his cheeks.  
   
"Thank you," Arthur said, ignoring the blush. He reached up to clap a hand on Leon's shoulder. "Then we have some details to work out. But first, I think we should concentrate on finding us something to eat for dinner, wouldn't you agree?"  
   


* * *

  
   
Caradoc and Percival retired shortly after dinner. It'd taken Leon and Arthur longer to work out the necessary details of their plan than anticipated, and so by the time they returned with their supper, it was already quite late. Leon, bless him, had offered to prepare the meat. Arthur'd nodded a thank you to Leon, and made yet another mental note to promote the man to his first in command if he ever ascended to the throne as King.  
   
Merlin, having slept for a good hour and a half, was now up and slightly more energetic than he'd been prior to beginning this quest. He sat beside Arthur on a log that appeared too withered to bear their weight, and yet it remained intact anyway. The brief question of magic sprung to Arthur's mind, but he sincerely hoped Merlin wasn't stupid enough to use it so recklessly, and in front of the other knights, no less. They were all aware that Merlin was a sorcerer, but that didn't mean that the fact he was still alive granted him an open pass to just use it freely. They remained within Camelot's borders, after all.  
   
Across the fire, Leon lounged against a large tree stump, whittling something out of another large piece of wood. Arthur'd never seen the man even attempt such a thing in the past and suspected that he was mostly trying to give him and Merlin some privacy, which again, he appreciated.  
   
"So... how are you feeling?" Arthur asked Merlin after several quiet minutes had elapsed between them. He prodded the fire with a stick, watching as sparks fluttered up from the flames for a few seconds before fading away again.  
   
"Like I've been in shackles for the better part of two weeks and was only recently freed. But, erm, I'm fine otherwise, I suppose."  
   
Arthur cast him a sidelong glance. "I'm sorry about that."  
   
"I know." Merlin picked up a small rock in his hand, holding it between his thumb and index finger, attention focused entirely on the stone as he rolled it back and forth between his fingers. "But I wouldn't even be here, had you not gone and bound our souls. Stupid a move as that may have been, sire," he added, eyes flickering up to meet Arthur's gaze.

It hadn't been meant as a joke, but Arthur found himself chuckling anyway, whether from actual humour, or the stress of the entire situation, he couldn't be sure. "That's rich, Merlin, coming from you," he said, and the ghost of a smile Arthur received in return was its own reward.

"Look, Arthur," Merlin said, shifting on the log so his body was angled towards Arthur, and it was apparent that he was ready to launch into some deep, emotionally charged conversation about soul bonds and magic and the like.  
   
A raised hand halted Merlin in his tracks momentarily. "Merlin, please, not now," Arthur said, voice teetering on the edge of pleading. Arthur was not ready to deal with this whole... _thing_ just yet. He'd forced most of his emotions and fears to the back of his mind in order to get them through the situation alive, but now wasn't the time to be launching into any sort of intense discussion, no matter what sort of things weighed on both their minds. Not with Leon, Percival and Caradoc around to witness the conversation; not when they were both exhausted and probably not in the best frame of mind.

"I know this is important, but this isn't the time and place for that sort of conversation." And just to further illustrate his point, Arthur inclined his head over at the sleeping knights, and then over towards Leon, who tenaciously ignored him entirely. Merlin followed his gestures with a blank look on his face.  
   
"Fine." He sounded a bit disappointed, but Arthur knew he'd get over it. Merlin's attention returned once more to the stone he still held in his hand, though Arthur suspected it was mostly just a distraction tactic.  
   
They sat like that for several more minutes, and Arthur wondered when things had suddenly become so awkward for them. He hoped that once they were on their own, away from the others, some semblance of normalcy would return once more, in spite of everything that now hung between them, like their own private ball-and-chain to share. Which reminded him...   
   
"Merlin?" Deep blue pools peered up at Arthur through dark lashes. "There is something I needed to talk to you about, though."  
   
"That figures," he muttered. "When Merlin wants to talk it's all 'shut up, _Mer_ lin'," he did a little voice impression of Arthur, which he reluctantly had to admit was quite accurate as he bit down a smile; maybe they weren't that far from normal after all, "but when Arthur wants to talk I'm supposed to jump at the honour, listen intently to his royal pratness, who obviously has far more important things to say than me."  
   
From the other side of the fire, Leon snorted, then feebly tried to cover it up as a cough, though Arthur knew better.  
   
"Now you've got it!" Arthur said jovially, reaching over to punch Merlin lightly on the arm, and he inwardly rejoiced at the responding smirk.  
   
“This is serious, though," Arthur continued after he'd allowed himself enough time to bask in the previous moment. He leaned forward, resting arms on his knees, and turned his face towards Merlin's, the volume of his voice dropping significantly. "Tomorrow morning, I need you to listen to me and just do everything I tell you, without complaint or protest. Can you do that?"  
   
Wide eyes peered back at him, speckles of orange from the reflected flames dancing across a blue backdrop. "Why?"  
   
"Please just trust me for once, all right? It's better if you don't know for now."  
   
Merlin's face fell, and he dropped his gaze down to his boots. "I do trust you," he whispered, voice so soft that Arthur had to lean even closer in order to make out the words.  
   
There was a part of Arthur that wanted to respond, _Well, if that were the case, then why didn't you ever tell me about your magic?_ \-- but he shoved it back down, shoved the sudden hurt that was clawing at his chest back into the pit of denial where he'd thrust most thoughts and feelings as of late. "Good," was all he said. "So I can count on you tomorrow, then?"  
   
Merlin nodded, pressing his lips together in a semi-pout, which might've been distressing if coming from anyone else, but was good enough for Arthur. And then, pulling away from Merlin, he added in a normal tone of voice so that Leon would hear as well, "We should probably get some rest. It's going to be a long day tomorrow."   
   


* * *

  
   
It was a cooler morning, the next day, but the sun was out, and if the cloudless sky was any indication, it would prove to be a beautiful summer's day. Arthur rolled over to find Merlin practically curled into his back. He was tempted to scare Merlin awake, but something about the peaceful expression on his face halted Arthur’s action. Everything about Merlin seemed softer as of late, even more so in the morning light. When he slept, it seemed as though Merlin no longer carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and Arthur wished he could somehow bottle that temporary serenity and give it to him later. He knew he shouldn’t, but Arthur couldn’t seem to stop his hand from reaching out and brushing a strand of dark hair from Merlin’s brow. Merlin stirred slightly, and Arthur’s breath caught in his throat, hand stilling, but he didn’t pull away. When Merlin’s eyes remained closed, Arthur permitted his thumb to trace lightly across Merlin’s cheekbone and down the length of his jaw.

It wasn’t until Merlin stirred a second time that Arthur realised just what, exactly, he was doing, and he pulled his hand away from Merlin’s face in a rush, flush crawling up the back of his neck. He had no idea what the hell possessed him to touch Merlin, but knew that it wasn’t proper behaviour, and mentally scolded himself. In an effort to re-establish their common ground, Arthur decided to kick Merlin lightly in the shin instead, and felt a sense of satisfaction when Merlin sputtered awake and glared up at him, hair sticking out ridiculously in every direction.

"Good morning!" Arthur said cheerfully, already rising from the ground, as he ignored the tightness still residing in his chest.  
   
He thought he heard a "sod off" spill from Merlin's mouth, but he couldn't quite be sure. In spite of the nearly sleepless night he'd had, Arthur felt a little lighter in the knowledge that soon he would be rid of the rest of his companions, much as he generally enjoyed their company under normal circumstances.  
   
Once Merlin was fully awake and had given up grumbling at Arthur, he set about getting a fire started so they could have a quick breakfast before carrying on. The high priestess' cavern was still a good two days' ride from where they were, and while Arthur was in no hurry to get there faster, he had appearances to maintain. At least for a little while longer.  
   
"What's our course today, sire?" Caradoc asked, a short while later, between bites of his breakfast.   
   
Arthur cast a sidelong glance in Caradoc’s direction. "West through the forest until we hit marshlands. Then north along the border, as travel at this time of year through the marsh would be next to impossible." It wasn't the most efficient route to take; in fact, it would likely add an extra day's worth of travel time. But Arthur couldn't let him know of the alternate route he and Merlin were going to traverse, and later on when Leon, as the most senior knight on the team, took over the lead, his credibility would remain intact by suggesting the exact same course.  
   
Arthur could feel Merlin studying him from across the way, where he busied himself packing up the horses, and Arthur did his best to ignore the stare. He'd been instructed to pack Arthur's and his horses first, and while his eyes narrowed at this decision, he obeyed, as promised the night before.  
   
Suddenly they heard yelling coming from the distance; all heads simultaneously whipped around to look in the direction of the noise.  
   
"That sounds like Sir Leon," Percival cried, reaching for the hilt of his sword while Caradoc jumped up, dropping the rest of his unfinished breakfast to the ground.  
   
Arthur, too, unsheathed his sword, attempting to affect an air of anxiety, though he felt perfectly calm. Jogging over to a concerned-looking Merlin, he leaned in close and whispered fiercely against his ear, "Stay here and finish packing up our horses. You're not in danger. That's an order," before trotting off with Percival and Caradoc to see what'd happened to their comrade.  
   
They picked their way through the brush, heading towards a particularly dense patch of forest, Arthur in the lead. After a few minutes, Arthur gave his two knights the signal to approach the general area from opposing sides, and they nodded their understanding. Once separated from the other two, Arthur veered left, ducking behind a large oak tree and waited until Percival and Caradoc were virtually out of sight, still following the cries from Leon. Arthur felt a twinge of guilt creep up on him at the deception, and for a brief moment considered the possibility that Leon might actually have encountered some terrible beast while following through with their plan. He shook the thought from his head a moment later, reminding himself that he was with three of the best knights of Camelot, and that even if there was something out there, they would easily be able to defend themselves. With that thought running through his mind, Arthur doubled back towards camp, praying that Leon would be able to keep the other two out there long enough for him and Merlin to make their escape.  
   
"What happened? Is Sir Leon all right?" Merlin asked, features crinkled in worry, as Arthur approached the camp a few minutes later, looking a little frantic and distracted, but no worse for the wear.  
   
Arthur nodded. "He's fine." He did a quick walk around their horses, ensuring everything they needed was there.  
   
"Are you sure you packed everything?"  
   
Round eyes narrowed suspiciously at him. "Of course I did, why are you asking --?"  
   
"Let's go, then," Arthur interrupted, mounting his steed in one swift motion.  
   
"What are you talking about, Arthur?" Merlin spluttered and pointed in the direction Arthur had just returned from. "What about Leon, Percival and Caradoc?"  
   
"They'll be fine. Let's go." And when Merlin made no move to actually do anything, Arthur glared at him -- one of the few looks he liked to think actually told Merlin he meant business. "Now!"  
   
Whether it was the stern look or the desperate tone of voice he used, Merlin obeyed him and mounted his own horse. Without further thought, Arthur tore away from the camp, Merlin close at his heels.  
   


* * *

  
   
"Arthur, what the hell's going on?" Merlin demanded as they raced through the forest, darting around trees and trying to avoid any potential pitfalls along the way. Arthur spurred his horse as fast as it would go, checking back over his shoulder every few seconds to ensure Merlin was still keeping pace with him. While Merlin was a terrible warrior by any stretch of the imagination, his riding ability was actually rather decent, all things considered. It was with this knowledge that Arthur felt confident in being able to push them along at this quickened pace, as Merlin was at very little risk of getting separated from him. Leon wouldn't be able to stall for long, and Arthur wanted to be as far away from the knights as possible before even thinking about slowing.  
   
"Not now," he called back after a moment and ducked his head, revelling in the feel of the wind whipping against his face. They may have been fleeing from the rest of their party, but there was a sense of freedom that came along with this course of action that Arthur couldn’t help but enjoy.  
   
They rode for a good hour before Arthur finally thought it safe to take a breather. Leon would be leading Caradoc and Percival along the alternate route he'd outlined that morning, which would take them an extra couple of days to reach their destination, and hopefully would grant Arthur and Merlin enough time to complete the trials and provide Arthur with ample opportunity to convince his ever stubborn manservant to preserve his own life by staying away from Camelot.  
   
Arthur was dismounting his horse as Merlin trotted up to him looking less than impressed. If Arthur thought his hair was ridiculous this morning, that was nothing compared to the windswept look he was currently sporting. That, combined with the pink tinge of his cheeks and the partial scowl he wore left Merlin looking nothing short of ludicrous, and something like affection momentarily swelled in Arthur’s chest, silly and inexplicable, but there all the same.

Arthur was reminded, suddenly, of his conversation with Gwen the day prior, in which she’d called him on his claim that what he was doing would be the same for anyone else. He’d known, before that point, that there was something different about Merlin. Enough so that Arthur was willing to risk death on more than one occasion to protect him. Arthur had always chosen to believe that it was out of duty, and maybe even friendship, often telling himself that he insisted on Merlin’s constant presence in his life simply because he was entertaining to harass. But then Merlin had gone and done something incredibly stupid and heroic, once again, and Arthur had felt his heart clench painfully at the idea of genuinely losing him this time. It was a fear that he hadn’t ever felt before -- not with Gwen, not with Gaius -- and Arthur wondered if maybe she hadn’t been so wrong, even in her unspoken assertion that Arthur’s affection for Merlin extended beyond what was expected or even reasonable. There was something deeper lurking there, Arthur knew, but Merlin’s flailing pulled him from his momentary reverie, and he returned his attention back to the present moment, allowing the thought to fade from his mind.  
   
"So I assume you have some really great reason for --" Merlin waved his hands around aimlessly, as though that explained anything, "-- this?"  
   
Part of Arthur wanted to refuse to tell him anything at all, just because he was the prince and he _could_. But he'd long since decided that there'd been enough secrets and lies between them to last a lifetime, and he had no intention of carrying on with that tradition. Besides, Arthur knew Merlin would continue to badger him until he got to the truth anyway, so there wasn't much point in wasting the energy keeping it to himself. "We needed to separate from them," he said at long last, though it didn't really answer all that much.  
   
Apparently Merlin thought so too. "Why? What does that even mean?" he demanded, dismounting from his own horse and taking a few steps towards Arthur.   
   
Arthur shrugged, as if it were no big deal. "This is our issue to deal with. We didn't need them tagging along."  
   
"What do you think they're going to do once they find out we ran?" Merlin asked, folding arms across his chest.  
   
Arthur waved a dismissive hand. "They'll try and catch up with us, but they won't. Leon is leading them in a different direction."   
   
Something in Merlin's brain seemed to click then, like the igniting of a fire, and Arthur wondered how he'd been able to keep his secret for so long, when everything he was thinking and feeling was usually written across his features, plain as day. "So, wait... you planned this, with Sir Leon’s help?" he asked.  
   
Arthur nodded and reached up to stroke his horse's nose, taking the reins in one hand and leading him further along the path. He waved at Merlin to follow, which he did without any protest. There was a lake somewhere around here, Arthur was quite sure. It would be a good place for the horses to quench their thirst and for Merlin and Arthur to take a short break.

"Look, Merlin, I started the bond on my own terms, and if we're going to break it, then I want that to be on our own terms as well." Arthur turned to face Merlin, stopping just short of the clearing up ahead.  
   
"And what happens to us when we get back to Camelot?" Merlin tossed out, as if he were actually coming _back_ to Camelot when all was said and done. Then again, maybe he still thought he was, or maybe he had a death wish; it was hard to tell sometimes.  
   
"You won't have to worry about that. I'll probably face Father's wrath for a few weeks, but it'll be all right in the end."  
   
Merlin frowned. "And what about me?"  
   
"What _about_ you?" Arthur scoffed. "You won't be there."  
   
"Why not?"  
   
Arthur closed his eyes, trying to fight down his growing frustration at Merlin's stubbornness. "Because if you come back to Camelot with me, you'll be killed for the crime of sorcery," he said slowly, enunciating every word to ensure comprehension.  
   
If the affronted look on Merlin's face was any indication, he was gearing up for a fight. "If you think you can break our soul bond and just expect me to hang out in the forest for the rest of my life, you'd better think again."  
   
"It won't be forever. Just until I become King," Arthur pointed out, placing his free hand on his hip.  
   
"I'm not leaving you," Merlin said stubbornly.  
   
"And I'm not going to let you die!" Arthur said, voice raised, feeling anger grip him as he stared Merlin down. "Why do you think I've gone through all of this? Do you think I find this fun? Because I can tell you, Merlin, it's not. You saved my life, and you will not be put to death for that."  
   
Arthur heaved a sigh, running a hand through his hair as Merlin studied him carefully, feeling the fight drain out of his body almost as quickly as it'd arrived. "I am absolutely not allowing you to be executed, even if I have to tie you up in a magic-resistant cave somewhere and bring food and water out to you on a weekly basis for the next fifty years." And maybe that was a bit dramatic, but the fact still remained that the overall sentiment was true. Arthur hadn't gone through all this absurdity to simply allow Merlin to come back to Camelot to be executed.  
   
Merlin's expression softened, and for a second, Arthur worried that he might try and hug him. Instead, he grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and said, "That sounds like a lot of work. Are you sure your highness can handle that kind of commitment?"  
   
Arthur grinned back, and shoved Merlin playfully before leading their horses into the clearing that led to the lake. This discussion was far from over, but for a few moments at least, Arthur wanted to simply enjoy being in Merlin's presence again, like it'd been in the past, even though they could never quite go back to that again.  
   
*****  
   
While the horses drank from the lake, Arthur and Merlin lounged out on the grass at its edge, basking in the warmth of the sun. It was one of those rare quiet moments between them, where neither spoke and neither felt any need to. Arthur had complained in the past about Merlin's silence, found it made him uneasy, but unlike before, there was a sense of peacefulness as they simply revelled in each other's company. Really, the idea of finding comfort in this situation -- where they were on the run from Camelot's knights, heading out to break a soul bond that Arthur had tricked Merlin into doing, with the knowledge that in a few days they would be separated for who knew how long -- didn't make any sense, and yet Arthur couldn't imagine himself being anywhere else, somehow.  
   
Eventually, the desire to talk -- to say _something_ \-- won over, much as Arthur had been enjoying the quiet. He just didn't want it to become too much of a habit.  
   
"Did they treat you all right?" Arthur asked casually, craning his neck to the side to glance over at Merlin. "While you were in the dungeons, I mean?"  
   
Merlin stared off into the distance, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Yeah, for the most part. At times the chains were a little tight, but whenever I asked for anything, they usually gave it to me. I’ve been in the dungeon before, but this was the most hospitable they’ve ever been. Which isn’t really saying that much, but still... I wonder why that was."  
   
 _Probably because I would've killed them if they'd hurt or mistreated you in any manner, and they knew that_ , was Arthur's immediate thought, but he decided that might sound a tad possessive and overbearing. Arthur merely shrugged. "They were probably scared you were going to turn them all into toads or something." Even as he said the words, it still felt funny on his tongue, to know that Merlin had magic, could probably actually _do_ something like that.  
   
"Hmmm." Merlin hummed appreciatively. "I never thought of that. But even if they were scared of _something_ ," -- he said it knowingly, as if he could read Arthur's thoughts; and maybe he could, with the soul bond -- "I have to admit that, all things considered, it wasn't so bad. Though it was boring and lonely down there. It's nice to be out in the fresh air again."  
   
Arthur cocked his head to the side and studied Merlin's profile. There were so many thoughts tumbling around in his brain, but he was afraid to give voice to any of them, or even think too hard, lest Merlin suddenly connect to his mind again and learn all of his hidden secrets. At times Arthur questioned if these _feelings_ were from him, or from the soul bond. But then he was reminded of the fact that he'd had these sorts of thoughts long before Merlin's soul was bonded to his, and the argument essentially died in his mind.  
   
It arrived completely out of the blue, then, when several minutes later Arthur found himself blurting out, "I've missed you," with an embarrassing amount of conviction and sincerity. Arthur stared down at his hands in horror, and the first thought that popped into his mind was, _Oh dear gods, I did not just say that out loud_. Except that he very much had.  
   
But then Merlin grinned shyly at him in response, and it filled Arthur with a warmth that spread through his entire body, right down to the tips of his toes. It was a feeling that grabbed hold of his chest and made him feel giddy and free -- like one of Gaius' potions that he was forced to drink when he got sick, but better, because this was genuine.  
   
"I've missed you too," Merlin said, equally sincere, meeting his gaze, and Arthur felt the beginnings of a flush creeping up his cheeks. It was the sun, he decided. Sitting out in the warm summer sun did weird things to his brain. It certainly had nothing to do with the person sitting next to him.  
   
"Most of the guards don't have your sense of humour about things," Merlin added as an afterthought, still smiling, and Arthur laughed, even while he wondered if Merlin was being serious.

“Well, there are few who are as amazing as me.” Merlin grinned at Arthur, shaking his head in mock disbelief, but remained silent.

“Arthur,” Merlin said, tone suddenly taking on a far more serious note than before. Arthur caught his eye. “Have you noticed anything different... in the way you’re thinking, or, er, what you’ve been thinking about... or feeling? Since you bonded our souls, I mean?”

There was something distinctly hesitant about the way Merlin asked the question, as though he were wondering about something in particular. Arthur had an idea of what Merlin was trying to get at, if his own thoughts and feelings as of late were any indication. Still, he didn’t want to reveal too much, on the off chance that he was reading the situation wrong.

“What do you mean, exactly?” Arthur asked slowly.

“I just mean... Are you thinking about anything, or anyone, more now than you used to? Before... things changed.” Merlin bit his lip, staring down at his boots awkwardly, as a flush crept slowly up his neck and extended right to the tips of his ears.

Arthur’s conversation with Gwen floated back to him then, specifically the part where she’d mentioned Merlin’s feelings, and suddenly Arthur’s stomach was twisting, not unpleasantly, with something that resembled hope.

In spite of the fact that Arthur suspected Merlin was talking about him, he was still weary of admitting too much. “Anything... or anyone. Yes, I suppose I have, at times.” Arthur paused, casting a furtive glance at Merlin. “Have you?”

Merlin nodded, still refusing to look Arthur in the eye, and suddenly Arthur felt his own face heating even more.  
   
It was at this point that Arthur decided the conversation was fast beginning to resemble the girly stories Morgana had forced him to endure as a child, and he was not about to get into a weepy, sentimental discussion with Merlin, especially not about their thoughts and feelings for... Well, for whomever they had feelings for. So after allowing himself adequate time to savour the emotions that were swelling in his chest, Arthur coughed and pointedly decided to switch tactics.

“You need someone to keep you in line, you know. It’s a good thing I’m here.”

Merlin snorted, crinkling his nose in mock-disgust as he shook his head. “Mmmm... the same could be said for you, you know, _sire_.”

It was true, to an extent, but Arthur wasn’t about to admit that out loud.  
   
"We should get going," Arthur said. He brushed his hands on his trousers and stood up. Arthur offered his hand down to Merlin, who stared up at it for a moment before graciously accepting. And when Arthur didn’t immediately release Merlin’s hand, neither appeared too conflicted.

* * *

  
   
They spent most of the rest of the day pushing their horses as fast as they would go, occasionally breaking to give the animals a rest. It was bordering on cruelty, but Arthur needed to know they had enough leeway to steer clear of Leon and the others. Tomorrow they would take things easier, slower.  
   
Thankfully, Merlin had packed up the last of the deer meat from the previous night's supper, which made preparations for dinner this evening far less complicated. Merlin still started a fire the old-fashioned way, struggling to get the sparks from the flint stone to ignite the kindling. Arthur watched him curiously, knowing that Merlin likely had the ability to do this with magic, and he considered suggesting that he do that. But just before he was about to propose it, a spark finally caught on, and within a few minutes it was blazing brightly.  
   
"I think the horses are tired," Merlin said, shortly after they'd finished eating, his gaze resting on the animals just over Arthur's left shoulder.  
   
Arthur cast a brief glance over at the horses before returning his attention to Merlin. "Yeah, they are. But they'll be fine by morning. We're not going to push them as hard tomorrow, so it should be all right."  
   
"Seemed kind of cruel to run them practically into the ground today, though."  
   
That statement out of anyone else's mouth would've come across as being incredibly judgemental and guilt-inducing, but for some reason when Merlin was the one speaking, it merely sounded like an observation. Of course, no one else Arthur knew would have ever considered saying something like that to him anyway; comments like these were exclusively reserved for Merlin.  
   
"Yes, I know. But they're tougher than they look," Arthur said with a casual shrug. "Besides, we really needed to put ourselves as far away from the rest of the knights as possible, and this was the only way."  
   
This time Merlin was the one to shrug, though he spoke with a small amount of careful hesitation. "I could've cast a spell to hide our tracks, or to speed the horses along without tiring them out."  
   
Two brows shot up his forehead. "You can do that?"  
   
"Yeah."   
   
Arthur shook his head. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"  
   
"You never asked. Though maybe I should've anyway. They really do look exhausted."  
   
Arthur sighed. He should have expected that answer, wasn't surprised even, though he wished Merlin didn't always need to make everything four hundred times more difficult than necessary.  
   
"Really, Merlin, sometimes you're just impossible," he started, only to realise that Merlin was no longer there. Arthur looked around until he spotted Merlin, who was making his way towards the horses, probably to check up on them. Even though Arthur frequently and relentlessly made fun of his girly nature, he did, on occasion, find it sweet how caring and compassionate Merlin was. To be concerned about the _horses_ of all things, when the threat of death at worst and exile from his home at best loomed imminently, spoke volumes of his character and his genuine heart. It was one of those things that continued to amaze Arthur about Merlin, even after knowing him all this time.  
   
Arthur considered making some witty remark when Merlin stumbled on some imaginary obstacle -- likely a rock or tree root, or maybe even the air, knowing Merlin -- and fell to the ground, landing face first as he flailed about. Arthur was up and at Merlin's side instantly, kneeling on the ground beside him.   
   
"Are you all right?" he asked as Merlin flopped over on his side, and then rolled to his back, face wincing in pain as he clutched gingerly at his left wrist.  
   
"I landed on my wrist," he said, screwing his eyes shut.  
   
"Is it all right?" Arthur reached out with the intent to have a look, but Merlin's eyes shot open and he pulled his entire arm back just in time, holding the limb carefully against his chest.  
   
"Don't grab at it," Merlin pleaded. He rolled to the side and then pushed himself into a seated position using his good arm.  
   
"Stop being such a baby, Merlin. Just give me your damn hand and let me have a look at it."  
   
"I thought I was Gaius' apprentice. What do you know about wrist injuries?" Merlin complained, but reluctantly offered up his wrist for Arthur's inspection.   
   
"Tell me if this hurts," Arthur instructed as he began to poke and prod at the injury. Howls and screeches that were not becoming of a man of Merlin's age with the type of injury he had spewed forth as Arthur examined his wrist carefully. Twice, Merlin tried to pull his arm away, but after Arthur threatened to sit on him in order to get the job done, he seemed to have a change of heart and attempted to at least act like the man he supposedly was. In Merlin's defence, however, it quickly became apparent that the wrist very well may have broken at worst, or sprained at best. It was already beginning to swell up right at the joint where hand and wrist met, and a large purplish bruise was forming.

"So what's the verdict, oh wise physician's apprentice?" Merlin joked, attempting to mask the pain he was clearly in, though the smile didn't quite reach his eyes.  
   
"I don't know for sure, but it's possible you broke it."  
   
Merlin cursed, and started mumbling about his complete and utter incompetence. Usually Arthur would be eager to agree with him, but if Merlin had broken his wrist, this would hinder their plans. Out of nowhere, a thought suddenly struck him.  
   
"Merlin, do you think you could heal your wrist with magic?"  
   
Merlin stared back at him. "I, well... I suppose I could. I just never, er, thought about it. I'm so used to not, well..." He waved his uninjured hand about as if that might make his words any less confusing. It didn't. "Yes. Probably. I think so."  
   
A few seconds later, Merlin spoke a short string of words that Arthur didn't understand, and he watched with rapt fascination as once blue eyes shone with brilliant gold for a moment, before fading again, almost as if it were a trick of the light.  
   
"Your eyes," was all Arthur managed to get out. He was fairly certain he'd seen Merlin's eyes change colour back when he'd first tricked Merlin into casting the soul bonding spell, but it'd been so dark that he hadn't been certain. Now, though, there was absolutely no doubt.  
   
Merlin's face crinkled in confusion. "What about them?"  
   
"They turn gold when you... when you do magic." He was unable to hide the amazement in his voice.  
   
Merlin nodded. "They always have. Or so I hear, anyway, since I can't really see myself when I'm performing magic."  
   
"Right." Arthur pushed his interest aside, making a mental note to try and learn more later, and took hold of Merlin's wrist with extreme care, turning it back and forth very slowly as he attempted to see if anything looked or felt better after the spell. "How does it feel?"  
   
Merlin still squirmed somewhat with each twist, but he was no longer screaming in pain, so Arthur assumed that must've been a positive sign. "It's not gone entirely, but it's taken away most of the pain. It should heal completely within a couple of days."  
   
If Merlin was capable of killing one of the most powerful sorcerers in the region, surely a simple healing spell should be a relatively minor task in comparison. He continued the last of his inspection as his hand slid down Merlin's wrist gently, marvelling at how faded the bruising was, how the swelling had nearly disappeared, even a mere thirty seconds following the spell.

He allowed gentle fingers to ghost across the soft skin of Merlin’s wrist, back and forth, unnecessarily, feeling warmth spread through him even at this barest of touches. Merlin remained unbelievably still, eyes boring into Arthur’s forehead, but Arthur couldn’t pull his gaze from where his hand continued to trace circles into Merlin’s skin. He let his fingers continue to trail down Merlin's wrist until they rested in the palm of his hand, thumb brushing against the back of Merlin’s fingers in an intimate caress. Merlin's gaze sought Arthur's and just when he thought maybe he'd pushed things a little too far, he felt fingers curling around his in a light squeeze. Neither said anything, simply stared at one another, and Arthur could feel his heart hammering in his chest. It occurred to him in that moment that it would be so easy to lean in and press his lips to Merlin's; he wondered idly what they tasted like, how they would feel against his own mouth.

Arthur’s gaze fell to Merlin’s lips, involuntarily, then darted south, as Merlin swallowed, Adam’s apple bouncing seductively up and down the line of his throat. When he managed to pull his eyes up once more, Arthur noted with some surprise that Merlin continued to stare at him, pupils dilated, breathing quickened. Arthur felt Merlin’s hand press down on his thigh, resisted the urge to glance down at it, warmth pooling in his belly at the action, and he swallowed thickly as a pink tongue snaked past Merlin’s lips, wetting them. The air around them crackled with tension, so thick it could be sliced with a sword, and Arthur could barely hear anything over the sound of his own heart pounding against his skull.

“Arthur,” Merlin breathed, barely audible, and he leaned forward just slightly, into Arthur’s space. _Gods, yes_ , he thought, suddenly longing for the taste of Merlin in his mouth.

And then, before their mouths connected, a bird screeched overhead, jolting them both back, and as one, Arthur and Merlin pulled away from one another, the moment completely shattered. Merlin shifted awkwardly before making to stand, and mumbled something about tending to the fire as he headed back towards the camp. Arthur felt disappointment rise at the missed opportunity as he reluctantly followed Merlin back, the internal argument that he shouldn't be having such thoughts about Merlin now quieter and more subdued than ever before, and he wondered if there might come a day when he didn’t have the thoughts at all.


	7. Chapter 7

**This Dark Road Will Lead Us Where We Want to Be -- Part Seven**

"You're being awfully quiet," Arthur said a couple of hours later, as he and Merlin were pressed side by side on a single log, hovering near the fire. The temperature had dropped significantly over the past hour, though the reason for the change was unclear. Arthur insisted that Merlin come sit beside him because he was afraid that he would trip and fall into the fire next. The reality was that he just wanted to be nearer to Merlin, wanted to have a reason to be pressed up against him. Merlin, for his part, didn’t seem to mind, leaning into Arthur at times himself.  
   
Merlin peered up at him through dark lashes. "I've got a lot on my mind," he said sincerely, sounding a touch sad.  
   
"Anything you care to share?" Arthur asked, knowing without actually knowing that Merlin was gearing up to tell him the rest of his story about the magic, and something deep within tightened reflexively. Somehow he knew this wouldn't go well, and there was a small part of Arthur that just wanted to tell Merlin that he didn't care, that it didn't matter what he'd done in the past. But he knew it would never fly; Arthur needed to know the truth, they needed to sort this out one way or the other, and it was probably better now than later.  
   
“I suppose,” he agreed reluctantly.  
   
“I'm sure it can't be any worse than what you've already told me." Arthur attempted to reassure Merlin, nudging his knee and tossing him an encouraging smile. Merlin, however, looked less than convinced.  
   
"Wait until you hear the rest before you say things like that," he mumbled to his feet, scratching at the back of his neck.  
   
Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but then thought better of it. Perhaps Merlin was correct about this, in some ways. There was still a lot that he didn't know, and while he couldn't imagine Merlin committing some atrocious act with his magic, it was always better to be prepared for anything. Instead, he simply nodded, waiting.  
   
Silence stretched between them, filling the air with an awkward sort of anticipatory tension. Arthur tried to wait patiently, to give Merlin some space to sort out whatever it was he needed to figure out in his head. But when one minute ran into two, which bled into five, he rediscovered that patience was not a virtue which he possessed.

"So, the witchfinder. Aredian," Arthur prompted carefully, in case Merlin had somehow forgotten where he'd left off, even though that was a highly unlikely possibility. "What happened after you got rid of him?"  
   
"Morgause," was all Merlin said, but there was such a significant implication in his tone that it sent a chill down Arthur's spine unexpectedly.  
   
"Yes." Arthur nodded. "She challenged me to a fight and then sent us on that ridiculous quest in order to feed me lies about my mother, and..."  
   
The words died in his throat as a sick realisation began to dawn on him, creeping slowly up his spine, and he shuddered involuntarily, reflecting back on that period of time when he'd learned about his birth. Surely... surely Arthur was jumping to the wrong conclusions. Morgause had shown him his mother, and she'd promptly turned Arthur's entire world upside down with a few words. Uther used magic to bring Arthur into this world, and then he'd turned on it when he didn't like the consequences, terrorising and executing hundreds of thousands of magic users throughout Arthur's life, she said. But then Merlin -- _Merlin_ , the only person he'd trusted in that moment -- he'd _told_ Arthur that Morgause was lying... that his father was not a hypocrite and a liar. It'd been the only thing preventing Arthur from ending Uther’s life then and there. Later that night, when he'd temporarily dropped his guard, allowed Merlin to wrap an arm around his shoulders momentarily while he ranted and raved about everything, Merlin had whispered soothing platitudes into his ear and told him that Uther loved him, that Morgause was trying to manipulate him. And Arthur had _believed_ him, _trusted_ in him. Trusted that even when everyone else in the world lied to him and let him down, that he could still rely on Merlin.

But the way Merlin had just said Morgause's name, the way he refused to meet Arthur's gaze... there was something else going on here, something big and frightening, and he was almost scared to ask, almost scared to confirm his fears. He didn't know if he could handle the truth, even as the jagged pieces were all beginning to fall perfectly into place.  
   
"Merlin," Arthur started, voice low and a little on the dangerous side as he fought back the panic that was threatening to rise in his throat. "Morgause _was_ lying about my mother, wasn't she? Manipulating me, like you said? She didn't die because my father used _magic_." If he kept repeating the same idea over and over, Arthur hoped he might convince himself of something that wasn’t true. Until he heard otherwise, Arthur refused to believe it, even though the sinking feeling in his heart told a different story.  
   
Arthur wanted Merlin to tell him he was losing his mind, jumping to wild conclusions, that he needed to calm down and get a grip on reality. But he wasn't going to. Arthur could see that in the way he sat, hunched forward tensely, the way his eyes remained shut, the way he fidgeted nervously with his fingers.  
   
"Arthur..." Merlin said, sounding so sympathetic and regretful that Arthur was instantly raging. That single word had just confirmed all of his fears, and he suddenly felt sick.  
   
"No!" he cried out, jumping to his feet. Merlin startled at the sudden movement. "No, you don't get to do that, Merlin. You don't get to _lie_ to me, when I _trusted_ you, and then come back with the truth all sorry and sympathetic."  
   
Merlin ducked his head, looking rightfully penitent and dismayed. "I was only trying to protect you, but you're right. I'm so sorry."  
   
"Protect me?" Arthur bellowed, throwing his hands up in the air, feeling the anger course through his veins. He couldn't believe this was happening. "From  _what_? The truth? The fact that my father has been persecuting innocent people for the use of the very same magic he used to conceive me? Or were you trying to protect the man who would gladly kill you; has _tried_ to kill you, Merlin?"  
   
He was pacing back and forth now, both hands tangled in his own hair, frustrated and hurt -- both at his father and at Merlin.  
   
"I don't know the whole story, Arthur," Merlin said, sounding a little harried, but otherwise mostly still in control. "I wasn't lying when I told you that Morgause was trying to manipulate you. She was. She  _wanted_ you to kill your father."  
   
"And who's to say that he doesn't deserve it?" Arthur growled. He whirled around. "Had you allowed me to end it then, we wouldn't be in this mess right now." He pointed an accusatory finger in Merlin's direction. "You manipulated me too, Merlin. What right did you have to take that decision from me?"  
   
He could feel the fury racing through his body, like a bolt of electricity coursing through his veins, seeking an outlet for release, but Arthur fought back the desire to react, coiling his muscles into tight knots. He knew it was unfair to take this all out on Merlin; his father was the one who'd spent his entire life fabricating a reality that he then proceeded to try and force Arthur to accept. But Merlin was here and real and therefore he would receive the brunt of Arthur's anger, even if it wasn't entirely just.

"So you would have killed your father, and then what?" Merlin was standing too now, not too close to either Arthur or the fire, but close enough that Arthur could reach out and grab him if he so chose. "You ascend to the throne as a murderer?"

Arthur felt a laugh bubble in his throat, bitter and violent. It tasted like bile as it burst from his lips, uninvited. "The same way my own father is a murderer, you mean? He's killed more people than I can even count, some for as ridiculous a reason as casting a bit of magic on their crops to feed their starving children. He doesn't deserve to pay for that?"  
   
"I'm not saying he doesn't," Merlin said, both hands raised up to his chest, palms facing forward in a gesture of surrender. "But that's not who _you_ are. You never would have been able to live with yourself if you'd killed your own father. No matter how angry you were, and no matter how much you think he might have deserved it. That isn't who you are, Arthur."

Deep down he knew it was true, had known it later on that very same night, as the guilt of coming within a breath of killing his father came crashing down heavily on his shoulders. Arthur had decided, even then -- amidst the frustration and anger and shame -- that no matter what Uther had done, guilty or innocent of the charges against him, Arthur would not be the one to end his life. He was better than that, above the mindset of senseless slaughter his father possessed. He'd known it then, like he knew it now, but it didn't make it any easier to stomach the truth. Especially when it came from Merlin, the only person who'd been able to talk him down in the first place, someone who knew Arthur like the back of his hand. Yet, what could Arthur claim to know about Merlin, really?

Arthur felt himself deflate just a little, pressing his palms against tired eyes and sucking in a shaky breath. There were a hundred thoughts racing through his mind -- some things he wanted to say, some things he didn't think he could handle getting out, some that would cause too much damage if they were voiced -- but what he eventually settled on was, "You still should have told me."  
   
There was silence, and then, “You’re right. I should have.” Merlin sighed, wearily. “But I didn’t. I had no right to make that decision on my own, and I’m sorry that it hurt you.”

Arthur didn’t really want to hear it, didn’t want to hear his excuses or his platitudes or his sympathy. But they had more to get through, and he suspected that it needed to occur tonight if they had any hope of dealing with any of this in the long run.

“What happened next?” he eventually bit out, struggling to keep his voice serene, collected.

Merlin wrung his fingers, tilting his head up to study Arthur. He didn’t look convinced, tongue darting out to lick his lips nervously, but he kept speaking anyway. “Um, do you remember that girl? The one who was captured by that disgusting old man and then mysteriously vanished?”

Arthur squinted, trying to remember what Merlin was talking about.

When it seemed clear that Arthur wasn’t able to recollect the event, he added, “What about, er, that creature that was killing people in the middle of the night? You remember that?”

Suddenly a series of memories came floating back to him -- the girl who went missing, people dying mysteriously at night, Merlin stealing his food and walking around with dresses, the wounding of the beast before it flew away, Merlin’s intense sadness -- and Arthur suspected he wasn’t going to like this story any more than the last one.  
   
“I remember,” he said, and because he was tired and still standing, decided to sit back down. He chose the log opposite Merlin this time, and after a moment Merlin followed suit, taking a seat on his own log.  
   
“They were the same person. Well, yeah...”  
   
Arthur hadn’t really seen that one coming. “How do you know that?”  
   
Merlin’s gaze flicked towards the fire, and remained there. “Because I’m the one who helped her escape and stay hidden,” he admitted, sounding far less repentant than Arthur would’ve expected.  
   
It should have come as a surprise, might have to most people, but even before knowing about Merlin’s powers, he wouldn’t have been surprised to hear it. Still, it was incredibly dangerous to harbour someone like the girl in Camelot.  
   
“What were you thinking?” was the first thing out of Arthur’s mouth, admittedly not the best way to start the conversation off.  
   
"I didn't know what she was. At least not at first. But it wasn't her fault, she was cursed."  
   
"Probably for a good reason." The words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them.  
   
But Merlin looked less than impressed. In fact, his expression shifted from one of regretful sadness to unbridled anger. "No, there was no good reason. She suffered and was cursed and shunned from her family for something that wasn't her fault. She had no one; she was going to die and she _needed_ someone to care about her."  
   
Arthur frowned. "And that was you?"  
   
"Yes," Merlin said quickly, averting his gaze, and Arthur suspected he had more to say but was keeping it from him.  
   
"So... what happened to her?" Arthur asked after a moment, memories of fighting and impaling the beast -- he still couldn't quite believe that had been a woman -- drifting through his mind.

Merlin’s frown deepened. "She died," he said, voice soft, sighing. "I was trying to help her. We were going to run away together once I found out what was going on, so she could be safe and everyone else around could be safe as well.  I... I managed to get a dress for her, because the one she had was tattered and worn. But. That wound you inflicted? She wasn't able to handle it, and it killed her. I tried to save her... but I couldn't."  
   
Arthur's brain processed the words, but he listened without really _hearing_ most of what Merlin was saying, having got caught up on the part where Merlin said they were planning on leaving Camelot together. He felt a sharp stab to his gut, which may possibly have resembled something like jealousy, and Arthur's brain immediately warred with itself over this new information. Merlin -- the man who was ridiculously loyal and wouldn't abandon Arthur even when he was being a royal prat, or under the threat of death, for that matter -- had been planning to run away from Camelot with a girl he'd known for what, a few days at most? It didn't make sense.  
   
"You were going to run away with her?" he said, as he attempted to hide the hurt that unintentionally crept into his voice. "Were you even planning on telling me?" Arthur folded his arms across his chest defensively, waiting for the response.  
   
"I..." Merlin floundered, mouth hanging agape. He recovered after a few seconds, clamping his jaw shut and looking resigned. "I don't know. Probably. Well, no, probably not. But you have to understand... I wasn't thinking straight. I loved her and I was so tired of _everything_. I just... It seemed like the right thing to do at the time."  
   
It felt like a slap in the face. Again. But there was a difference between this and Merlin's lies about Arthur’s mother. The lies had been told, albeit wrongly, with the intent of protecting Arthur from making a terrible mistake. He sure as hell wasn't happy about it -- hadn't even fully begun to process that reality at the moment -- but at least there had been Arthur's best intentions in mind when making that decision. But this... this hurt Arthur in an entirely different way, because Merlin had planned to leave him, to run off with someone he'd literally just met and abandon the supposed destiny he'd previously staked his life on. And to top it all off, he was also in love with the girl? Something resembling jealousy sprung up unexpectedly, twisting in his belly, but Arthur was unable to quash the feeling.  
   
"Good to know that you were going to leave me high and dry without an explanation. For some girl you just met," Arthur grumbled, making no effort to hide his feelings on the matter.

And suddenly, without warning, Merlin erupted with rage, vaulting up from his seat. "What are you talking about? You're so focused on yourself that you probably wouldn't have even noticed if I was gone. I give everything I have of myself to protect and serve you, but most of the time you barely even acknowledge me. Freya actually _saw_ me for who I was, and cared about me, so don’t you dare start in on me for this."  
   
"I care about you," Arthur said, flummoxed, not knowing what else to say.  
   
"Well you sure have a funny way of showing it." Merlin shook his head. "Throwing me in the dungeon, constantly insulting me, treating me like I'm an idiot. You can be angry at me for lying to you and deceiving you. I know I deserve that. But you do _not_ get to yell at me about Freya. She was _good_ and kind and she didn't deserve to die. I already told you that I was going through a difficult time. I wasn't thinking clearly and I felt like I needed to get away. This had to do with _me_ , Arthur. Not everything is about you all the time, so stop making it out to be."  
   
The words hit Arthur like a ton of bricks, and a portion of his anger ebbed away. When Arthur stopped to think about how he'd treated Merlin over the past couple of years, especially knowing now what he knew, he was forced to admit that perhaps he was being selfish on this matter. It was obvious now that Merlin had been suffering for quite some time, but Arthur had been too wrapped up in his own world to give Merlin the attention he should have had, the attention he deserved. Arthur supposed it was a sad reflection on his own character that someone Merlin barely knew had shown him more care and sensitivity than the one person Merlin was supposedly closest to.

In the background, the wind howled, darkness drawing itself around them like a blanket. It felt appropriate, given the general atmosphere at the moment.    
   
"You're right," Arthur admitted, feeling a sense of shame descend on him through the haze of the anger he felt. He had every right to be furious with Merlin for a number of reasons, but in this, Arthur couldn’t fault him.

Merlin sighed, looking as weary and exhausted as Arthur felt, and he seemed to deflate.  
   
"Gods, this is completely ridiculous," Arthur said, mostly to himself, not sure what else to say. "The next thing I know, I'm going to hear you tell me that you were the one who released the dragon."  
   
He expected to hear protests or cries to the contrary. After all, it was a wholly preposterous idea to even suggest in the first place, had been a disparaging joke at best. But when a moment passed, and then another, Arthur felt his heart plummet to his feet as a sickening feeling washed over him. He risked a glance in Merlin's direction, only to witness the intense look of shame and guilt written across his features.  
   
"Please tell me you didn't," he said, eyes shutting for a moment. "I was _joking_."  
   
"I had no idea he was going to attack Camelot," Merlin said. Arthur's head began to pound.  
   
It was somewhat ironic. For all Merlin's talk about the dragon and destiny, he'd never once imagined that _Merlin_ had been the one to free him. All that destruction... all the innocent lives lost. Arthur's heart still clenched painfully at the thought of what had been taken from them -- families left homeless, children left without parents, livelihoods destroyed. Never mind the fact that Arthur had lost many of his seasoned knights in that single battle. One that could have been prevented, had Merlin not freed the thing in the first place. They'd spent months repairing the damage it had caused, were _still_ putting the city back together. This was complete insanity, and were he not convinced that Merlin was being painfully open with him, finally, Arthur might have laughed at the absurdity of it all.  
   
"You’re joking, right?" Arthur asked, burying his face into his hands and pinching the bridge of his nose. Maybe if he squeezed hard enough, he would wake up from this conversation to find it was only another nightmare. "Why on _earth_  would you do something like that? I can't-- I don't even know how to _begin_ to understand this."  
   
There was a drawn-out pause, and then, "I had no choice. The dragon told me to. I swore on my mother's life that I would and I couldn't go back on that."

Arthur's hand rose to halt Merlin as he attempted to make sense of what he was saying. "So let me see if I have this straight. The dragon _told_ you to release him, and you just went ahead and _did it_?"  
   
Merlin's eyes fell closed for a second, right hand clutching the fabric of his tunic in a tight grip, the other running through his hair. "No, it wasn't like that. He'd... well, he'd always helped me in the past. And the last time I desperately needed answers he wouldn’t give them to me unless... unless I swore to release him. So I promised him I would, because I couldn't let anything happen to you. And even though I tried to make him promise he wouldn't harm Camelot, I never thought... I never thought he'd actually _do_ anything."  
   
Merlin was on the edge of hysterics, even as his voice remained steady; Arthur could just feel it manifesting itself before his eyes. Which meant that there was something worse he was still holding deep inside, some secret that was bigger than the rest of them, and Arthur felt his stomach lurch at the thought.  
   
“What are you talking about?” Arthur asked, weary. “What could he have told you that was important enough to free him?”  
   
“Morgause... she’s the one who cast the sleeping spell on the kingdom. She summoned the dark knights of Idirsholas with the intent of killing both you and your father. I couldn’t... I couldn’t allow her to do it...” Merlin trailed off, shaking his head as if even he had a hard time believing the words that were coming out of his mouth. “I had to stop the magic at its source. There was no other way; I didn’t have _time_ to find another way... I didn’t want to, but the dragon said there was no other solution. I just...”

It was clear that they weren’t going to make any progress as Merlin continued to talk in circles. It was additionally possible that if Merlin didn’t spit out whatever he was holding onto soon, it was possible he might not be able to get it out at all. Arthur strode over to Merlin in two quick steps and grabbed hold of his shoulders, squeezing them just hard enough to gain his attention.

“Merlin! Focus, please. I don’t understand what you’re blathering on about,” Arthur said, staring deep into Merlin’s hollow, tear-filled eyes, voice stern and a bit colder than he’d intended.  
   
Merlin blinked once, twice, shook his head as if clearing away any stray thoughts, and the glossed-over expression faded. “I had to destroy the source of the magic, otherwise they would’ve killed you and the king... Please know that I had no choice, Arthur.”  
   
“What was the source of the magic?” Arthur pushed, heart thumping wildly in his chest with nervous anticipation, thumbs digging more firmly into Merlin’s shoulder blades, but not enough to bruise.  
   
“Morgana,” Merlin finally said, and suddenly Arthur’s fingers felt as if they were on fire. He yanked his hands away from Merlin and stepped back, almost instinctively.  
   
The sickening feeling began to rise up in his throat. “What? What do you mean Morgana was the source of the magic?” he demanded, completely missing the significance of the other implication in Merlin’s admission.

“Morgause channelled the magic through Morgana. Which was why she was the only one who hadn’t fallen asleep,” Merlin said, voice frail and pained, skin alarmingly pale, even for him.  
   
"I don't understand..." Arthur muttered, confused, memories of that day resurfacing in his mind. "She claimed she didn't know what was going on. Why would Morgana be working with Morgause?"  
   
"I don't think she knew what was happening to her."  
   
Vague memories of wide eyes and a panicked expression indicated that Morgana certainly hadn't _appeared_ to have any knowledge of what was going on at the time. Either that, or she was a phenomenal actress. However, the rest of Merlin's previous statement seemed to settle in Arthur's mind, and something finally clicked into place, filling him with a sickening sense of horror as reality began to dawn on him for the first time. "Wait. You said that you had to stop the magic at its source. That was Morgana," he said slowly, carefully, a near hysterical edge to his own voice. "What..." -- he couldn't even believe he was asking this, of _Merlin_ , no less -- "...what did you do to her?"  
   
A frown marred Merlin’s face, eyes still filled with unshed tears. The expression on his face was one of regret, apology, and sorrow -- as if he expected the world to end right then and there. And maybe, in some twisted sort of way, Merlin’s world _was_ ending. At the very least, it was the end of his world of lies and secrets from Arthur; though where they went from here he had no idea. "I'm so sorry."   
   
"What did you do?" Arthur repeated, mentally preparing himself for the blow the he knew was coming.  
   
"I poisoned Morgana," Merlin said, voice soft, guilty.  
   
But Arthur couldn't see any of it, was unable to register anything beyond the hollow weight in his gut, the lump in his throat, and the blind hot rage that thrummed through his entire body. "You... _poisoned_ her?" This made no sense. There had to be some other, alternate explanation, because the Merlin that Arthur knew would never try and kill one of his friends. He was sweet and loving and gentle. Arthur'd even seen the man cry over a dead animal more than once.  
   
"I had no choice," Merlin asserted. “I _had_ to do it. I’m so sorry, but I had no choice.” His gaze dropped to his boots, and he sniffed, reaching up to wipe at his nose.  
   
But Arthur didn't want to hear that right now; couldn't deal with the excuse, no matter how much Merlin may have believed it to be true. "You _always_ have a choice, Merlin. Always!"  
   
Merlin shook his head, defiance and conviction momentarily taking up residence in his gaze, even as tears finally began to travel down his face. "It was either her or you, and I couldn't allow anything to happen to you. I would take my own life if it meant protecting yours."  
   
That information was likely meant to be reassuring, but instead, it only made Arthur feel even more infuriated than before. Arthur's hands flew to his hair, fingers digging into his scalp, and he fought back the urge to rip every last hair from his head in frustration.

Another thought popped into his head before he could form the words to provide a proper response. "So if the only way to stop the magic was to eliminate the source, then that must mean..." Arthur trailed off, unable to finish the sentence, let alone even begin to accept the possibility that Morgana may possibly be dead.

"No, she's not... she's not dead," Merlin said, shaking his head with confidence.  
   
"How the hell do you know that?"  
   
Arthur pointedly ignored the slapped child look that appeared on Merlin's features. There was no room for sympathy right now. "Because I told Morgause the name of the poison I used," he said, as if that explained everything.  
   
"And how does that mean she's still alive?"  
   
Merlin swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Morgause took Morgana away when she left. She seemed very concerned about her. She wanted the poison so she could make an antidote. I... I assumed she saved her."  
   
Arthur’s eyes fell shut, nausea rising as he struggled to absorb all of this information. He couldn't stay here any longer, needed to get away from the fire and Merlin and his thoughts and just _everything_. It was too much all at once. Arthur felt as though he'd stepped into some horrible nightmare and briefly considered pinching himself just to make sure. He felt furious, nearly out of control; and at the same time he felt numb... hollow... empty. Throwing his hands up in defeat, Arthur turned and walked away, not even Merlin's tears able to hold him back from night's cold embrace.

* * *

  
   
Arthur stalked through the forest for what felt like hours, ignoring the branches that whipped against his face and arms, dismissing the biting chill of the wind. He welcomed the pain, the sting dulling the gut-wrenching ache in his heart as he struggled to make sense of this topsy-turvy world he unexpectedly found himself wandering through, feeling unwelcome and so very confused. He wanted to scream and wail in equal measure, but found he wasn’t able to do either.

Eventually, he stopped in a clearing, every limb heavy with the weight of a thousand sorrows. His eyes stung from the wind, and possibly for other reasons, but he could no longer be arsed to care. Flopping gracelessly to the ground, face buried in his hands, Arthur finally allowed every emotion -- the rage, fear, sorrow, grief, guilt, betrayal, shock, and confusion -- to bubble up to the surface where it was out in the open, raw and overwhelming and uncontained.

And for the first time in a very long time, Arthur Pendragon cried until he had no tears left.

*****

By the time he managed to pick his way back through the trees in veritable darkness to the campfire, several hours had passed. Arthur returned, half expecting Merlin to have abandoned him and run off into the night, but he still remained as always. He was like a loyal puppy and a pestering gnat at the same time, always present and around, whether welcomed or not.

Curled up in a tight ball on his bedroll, Merlin slept a few feet away from the fire, chest slowly rising and falling. The gentle glow of flames danced across Merlin’s pale face, softening his features, and Arthur’s stomach constricted at the sight. He appeared so innocent and pure under the subdued light, and a couple of weeks ago, Arthur probably would have believed it. Now he simply didn’t know what to think any longer.

With a heavy heart and weary muscles, Arthur sank to the ground, situating himself on the bedroll Merlin had no doubt laid out for him. Shucking his boots, he lay back, wild thoughts assaulting his mind in continuous waves until finally sleep overtook his distressed mind hours later.

* * *

  
   
  _He was angry, and they were fighting. Yelling, screaming harsh words that could never be taken back, even if he’d wanted to._

 _Merlin was pushing back, tears in his eyes, and nothing was going well._

 _Merlin tried to run away, but Arthur reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him back. They were not done here and he wasn’t about to allow Merlin to leave. But Merlin yanked his arm back again, the strength of the action surprising Arthur, and the next thing he knew, he was tumbling to the ground, dragging Merlin down with him._

 _“You’re not going anywhere,” Arthur told him roughly as he attempted to disentangle his limbs from Merlin._

 _But Merlin seemed to have another idea all together. One moment he was pulling away from Arthur and in the next he’d straddled his hips, looking down at him with a predatory gleam in his eyes._

 _“What are you doing?” Arthur demanded. However, his protest died promptly in his throat as Merlin leaned down, kissing Arthur with a brutal intensity._

 _Arthur tried to fight him off, but Merlin was stronger than he looked. Hands and tongues and lips explored skin, touching and tasting and savouring, and any protest Arthur may have had ceased to exist when clothes were removed and Merlin began a more thorough exploration of Arthur’s willing and eager body._

 _None of this made sense, he knew, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. Especially when Merlin’s hands and mouth were doing such delightful things to his body. It only took a few minutes for Arthur to find his release, and as he reached out for Merlin to return the favour, the argument they’d just been having drifted entirely from his consciousness, forgotten for the moment._

His eyes flew open with a start, and Arthur’s heart raced wildly in his chest. The morning air was still cool, dawn having only just arrived as the sun barely poked its head over the horizon. He shifted uncomfortably on his bedroll as memories from his nightly adventures came wafting back into his consciousness. He permitted himself a brief moment to remember the feelings and sensations that coursed through his body as it’d responded to Merlin’s ministrations, arousal and pleasure still fresh in his mind. Reaching beneath his blanket Arthur palmed his stiff cock, standing at full attention as it pushed up against his breeches and he hissed in frustration. Casting a furtive glance in Merlin’s direction, Arthur was immensely relieved to note that he, by some miracle of life, was still sleeping soundly. Or he was doing a great job of faking it.

Arthur sat up, rubbing a hand across his face as he contemplated what this meant. He was supposed to be angry with Merlin right now, not having erotic dreams about him that left Arthur painfully aroused come morning. This reaction made him feel both uncomfortable and yet oddly exhilarated, and he wasn’t sure if it was panic or excitement that rose in his chest at the thought. Sure Arthur had been thinking about Merlin a lot more than usual recently, imagining on more than one occasion what it’d feel like to kiss him, to touch him, had even been pushing the limits with their physical interactions to test Merlin’s potential receptivity to his advances. But what exactly did that mean? Glancing down at his lap, the physical evidence seemed clear, at least, and Arthur was willing to concede that perhaps there was a part of him that very much _did_ want Merlin, even if he didn’t want to want him.

Arthur contemplated getting up and walking around in the feeble hopes that it might quell his lust, but that was likely going to do little to solve the problem. Besides, Merlin would hear him walking around the camp and insist on knowing what was going on. A dip in a lake might be just the necessary cure, except for the fact that there were no lakes for at least another half a day's ride. Arthur even contemplated not doing anything about it at all, but the thought of spending an entire day in a saddle with an erection was less than appealing.

Instead, he lay back down on his bed roll, staring up at the sky and attempting to think about anything that wasn’t Merlin. He thought about the last tournament he’d been in and what he could do differently next time. He thought about all the weapons that were in the armoury and which ones he would like to further train his knights in. He thought about the Camelot and Southumbria alliance, wondering if it’d eventually go through anyway. Nothing seemed to keep his thoughts away from Merlin for long, however, and even through Arthur’s incredible frustration, the mere idea of Merlin touching him in any way seemed to make him impossibly more aroused than before.

Eventually, Arthur forced his feet to drag him away from the camp, leaving the still slumbering Merlin lying alone on the ground. He pressed his back against a tree trunk, taking a few steadying breaths, as he tried to will his erection away. But the only thoughts filling his mind were that of Merlin’s hands and mouth on his skin, of the way he tasted and smelled and felt. And with equal parts shame and desire, Arthur finally shoved a hand down his trousers, fisting his throbbing cock and jerking himself off with frantic thrusts, Merlin’s name a breath past his lips when he eventually came, a few minutes later.

* * *

  
   
They'd packed up their things hastily following Arthur's return to camp that morning. He could feel Merlin's eyes watching him, assessing, but he couldn't quite bring himself to speak to or even acknowledge him unless absolutely necessary. Arthur was still reeling, from the previous night's revelations as much as from his dream and early morning situation, and he just needed more time to sort through the jumbled mess that was his mind right now.

The ride was distinctly uncomfortable, and there was a marked air of anxiety and uncertainty radiating from Merlin the entire time. Arthur hated it -- hated not knowing what to do or say. He’d spent a great deal of time contemplating the situation last night; the reality was that as much as he believed in Merlin’s sincerity -- both in their conversation the previous night, and the one they’d had in the dungeons all those weeks back -- what he’d learned yesterday had changed things. Arthur’s father _had_ used magic in his conception -- the mother he’d never known paying the ultimate price -- and Merlin kept this from him, even knowing the devastating consequences. He’d freed the dragon and caused the death of hundreds of innocent people with this single act, despite the good intention behind it. And Morgana... she was missing now, possibly even dead, because Merlin had listened to the dragon and _poisoned_ her. That, of all things, Arthur was having the most difficulty coming to terms with. Merlin had killed for Arthur before, would probably do it again if any threat came against him, but the fact that he’d been willing to end Morgana’s life -- the life of a friend, no less -- scared Arthur more than he was ready to admit.

And so they rode in silence, Merlin staring quietly off into the distance, and Arthur brooding over what to do.

They eventually stopped to rest, early in the afternoon. The sun had beat down on them as they rode through more open spaces most of the morning, travelling through a particularly hilly area, its rays hot and relentless. A sheen of light sweat covered every exposed inch of Arthur’s body until he eventually ached for a break. But it wasn’t until they were sheltered once more under the thick, protective covering of the forest canopy that he announced they would take a short breather.

“Grab something to eat,” Arthur instructed shortly, striding away from Merlin, not trusting himself to remain in Merlin’s presence for too long.

But Merlin followed him, trailing a few feet behind as Arthur attempted to weave through the trees. When it became apparent that Merlin had no intention of leaving Arthur alone, Arthur stopped walking, standing on the spot but not turning around, shifting back and forth from one foot to the other while he waited for Merlin to make his move.

“Arthur, will you just talk to me?” Merlin finally demanded, voice laden with pent-up frustration.

Arthur reluctantly turned to look at Merlin out of the corner of his eye, sizing him up. He looked dishevelled, bags under his eyes and hair an unruly mess, but there was a decidedly obstinate glint to his eyes. Arthur chose not to respond, instead shooting Merlin an imploring look, granting him permission to speak.

“Look, if you want to send me away or yell at me or whatever... can we please just get it over with? It’s bad enough knowing that once we break the bond...” Merlin trailed off, waving a hand between them, abandoning the thought. “If you never want to see or talk to me again, fine. But stop ignoring me. We need to deal with this instead of pretending it doesn’t exist.”

It shouldn’t have worked. It shouldn’t have had any impact on him at all, but Arthur would be damned if he didn’t have what could be considered the world’s biggest soft spot for Merlin. Even though Arthur knew he shouldn’t give in to Merlin’s brash demands, he knew it wasn’t fair to leave Merlin hanging like this either.

“Fine. You want to talk? Then let’s talk.”

He supposed now was as good a time as any; they would have to work this out one way or the other, much as Arthur would’ve preferred they didn’t have to have this conversation at all. But if they were doing this, they were going to do it on Arthur’s terms. He strode purposefully towards Merlin, reaching him in a few short paces, and somewhat surprisingly, Merlin took a tentative step away from him.  
   
"What are you doing?" Merlin asked, eyes wide as he continued to cautiously back away.  
   
"What does it look like I'm doing?" he responded. “We’re going to talk.”

Arthur continued to advance on the retreating Merlin, but he was making no real attempt to make a break for it, nor did he appear alarmed in any capacity. Merlin inched back, nearly stumbling over an exposed tree root, but he managed to maintain his balance until his back hit the trunk of a large tree. Arthur pressed forward until there was little more than an arm span between them. Everything that he’d been feeling and fighting and pushing down for the past several weeks was erupting to the surface, as it had the previous evening, and Arthur knew he’d reached the point where he could no longer stop it from happening. There was something he needed to know, and he wouldn't be able to move forward with any certainty without the absolute truth of the matter. It had the potential to destroy them both, but it was too late to stop this now.

“Tell me, Merlin, what is it that you want me to say? Do you want me to thank you for lying to me for the past two years, because I have to tell you, I don’t think I can do that at the moment.”

Merlin frowned, eyes sad, picking at the cuff of his sleeve. “No, of course not.”

“Or would you prefer that I yell and scream some more, and tell you I never want to see your face again?” Arthur carried on. He tapped his chin with false thoughtfulness. “I’m curious what you would do, Merlin, if I asked you to leave right now? To get out of my sight and never come near me again?”

Merlin eyed Arthur as though he’d just asked a completely ridiculous question. “I think you know what I would do,” he said. “I have a responsibility to protect you. I would never leave you.”

“Until you met another girl with magic, you mean?” It was a low blow, and Arthur hadn’t actually meant to let it slip. He could understand, now, why Merlin may have felt connected to the girl, but that didn’t mean he had to like it, or that it wouldn’t hurt to think about. Still... Arthur knew that this particular issue was not fair to hold over Merlin’s head. He could see the hurt in Merlin’s face, hated that he was the one who caused it, and felt like a right and true ass for the first time in quite a while.

“That’s not fair,” Merlin said angrily, eyes narrowing into a heated glare. “I already explained why. And I didn’t go through with it.”

Arthur sighed heavily, barely able to maintain eye contact with Merlin. “I know...”

Shaking his head, Arthur acknowledged that he would likely never be able to know what Merlin would have done either way, and he supposed that in some ways it didn’t really matter any longer. Merlin was here now and things were entirely different than they were at the time. All the secrets that’d weighed on Merlin’s mind back when he met that girl were no longer only his to bear, and Arthur hoped that changed things for them somehow.

“Look, I don’t know what to tell you,” Arthur finally admitted. “I shouldn’t have brought that up again. But I’m angry and frustrated and I don’t know how to trust you again. Hell, I don’t even know why I _should_.” Never mind the fact that he wanted to, so very desperately.

Want and need were two entirely different things, however.

Merlin bit his lip, eyes turning downward. “You should because everything I’ve ever done has been for you,” he said, hand rising as if to reach out and touch Arthur, but he seemed to decide against it in the end and his hand fell back to his side. “I know I’ve shattered that trust between us, but if you give me a chance, I can prove myself to you again.”

“How? How can you do that, Merlin?” Arthur threw his hands up in defeat. “You lied to me for years and even after I finally find out the truth, you _still_ keep things from me. Really significant things too, I might add. What am I supposed to do with that information? Maybe if you’d told me about your magic we could have changed the way things played out.”

“I wanted to, Arthur; I told you that. But I didn’t have a choice. You weren’t in a position to understand what was going on,” he said, quiet. Arthur was less than impressed, and in that moment, it was one of the worst things Merlin could have said. Especially given the fact that Arthur was _trying_ to understand now. The anger rose in his throat once more.

“You never gave me the chance,” Arthur said, hands fisting for a moment, before he actively stretched his fingers, allowing his hands to fall back at his sides. “What else am I supposed to do when you don’t tell me anything?”

Merlin opened his mouth to protest, but he faltered, and something seemed to click into place behind his normally expressive blue eyes. “You’re right,” was all he said in the end, a mixture of guilt and resignation in his tone.

Arthur leaned in closer to Merlin, reaching up to place his forearm against Merlin’s chest, pinning him to the tree at his back. “How can I know that you won’t hurt me? Try to backstab me or poison me or undermine me in some way? How do I know I can trust you again, or that you won’t lie about your magic in the future? How do I know you won’t leave me?”

There was weakness there, and anger and pain, hanging openly between them. The last question in particular filled Arthur with the sense that he’d just revealed far too much of his own soul. If Merlin had any intention of harming him, Arthur had basically just handed the man his heart on a gold platter, ready and waiting to be torn to shreds, should he so choose.

Merlin reached up and placed one hand on Arthur’s arm, the touch soothing away some of the tension. Warm eyes bore into Arthur’s, entreating. Still, he didn’t back down, couldn’t do it just yet. “Arthur, I would never hurt you, ever. You should know that by now. And I won’t leave you. I would do anything you wanted, anything you needed, would gladly die for you in an instant. So if this is what it takes to make you understand -- to prove my loyalty to you -- then do whatever you want to do to me now. Torture me however you see fit. But know that I won’t stop your hands or your blade.”

Merlin’s eyes fell shut momentarily, hand still wrapped around Arthur’s forearm, and he looked resigned when his eyes fluttered open again, but ready to face whatever Arthur wanted to unleash on him. The trust and vulnerability displayed so openly on his features softened Arthur’s resolve, and the thought of hurting him in any way suddenly made him feel physically ill. Gazing into Merlin’s eyes, Arthur searched them, looking for any signs that he was making this up -- as he’d done before in the dungeons -- needing to see if he wasn’t being sincere... but the only message that radiated from Merlin was one of complete and utter genuineness. And Arthur knew, he just _knew_ that every word Merlin had spoken just now was true -- that he couldn’t possibly be lying. Arthur was angry that Merlin had kept the truth about his magic from him, upset about his mother, angry that he hadn’t trusted him, furious that he’d poisoned Morgana and released the dragon -- but he thought that maybe he could see it now, could understand _why_. Merlin had only ever acted to protect Arthur, only done what he felt was best, not for himself but for Arthur. And even if some of those choices didn’t sit well with Arthur just yet, he knew that Merlin’s intentions had always been honourable. For now, that was enough.

Arthur leaned forward then, pressing his forehead to Merlin’s, one hand moving to cup the side of his face. Thumb stroking Merlin’s cheek gingerly, Arthur finally allowed his other arm to fall back to his side. He wanted to say something, to tell Merlin that he believed him, that he couldn’t ever -- _wouldn’t_ ever -- hurt him, but the words would not form on his tongue. Merlin remained completely still, neither leaning into nor pulling away from the touch, and flashes of Arthur’s dream the previous night began to filter into his brain.

Pulling back, he searched Merlin’s face once more, this time for any sign that he would resist what Arthur was about to do. But the same open, inviting expression remained, and Arthur tilted his head, finally pressing his lips to Merlin’s. He pulled away a moment later, assessing. Merlin gazed at him, pupils blown wide, with the barest hint of a smile touching his lips. “Arthur,” he breathed softly, full of longing, and then Merlin was kissing him, lips moving and tongue darting out past his lips with clear intention, hands fisting in Arthur’s tunic and tugging him closer.

Arthur’s lips parted, welcoming the warm heat of Merlin’s mouth, and the kiss quickly deepened into something more intense, more raw. They explored and tasted one another, greedy and aroused as their tongues chased and fought each other. Arthur’s hand cupping Merlin’s face moved to wrap around his waist instead, fingers pressing into his side as Arthur held him in place. Arthur’s other hand strayed to the bottom of Merlin’s tunic, pushing the fabric up until he found skin. Mindful of the tree behind Merlin, Arthur’s hand moved up his spine, mapping the knobs of each bone, the stretch of muscle beneath his fingers. Merlin’s hands knotted in his hair as they continued the exploration of each other’s mouths and bodies.

His hands roamed from Merlin’s back to his chest as he savoured the feel of the smooth, taut muscles against the pads of his fingers. He ran his hand over Merlin’s nipple, taking it between two fingers and gently stroking him until a moan of pleasure escaped past Merlin’s lips. Arthur continued his ministrations, moving to give the same attention to the other side a couple minutes later, enjoying the feel of Merlin writhing beneath his touch.

He pressed kisses down the side of Merlin’s jaw, nipped hungrily at his earlobe, sucked at the skin under his Adam’s apple, mapping the juts and contours of his face and neck. Merlin’s hands did some exploring of their own, fingers roaming across Arthur’s back, arms, and chest, like he was creating a tactile map of Arthur’s body. After a moment he sought Arthur’s mouth again, sucking on his bottom lip, twirling their tongues together, ravishing every inch of his mouth as though he were trying to drink him in.

Arthur’s deft fingers trailed cautiously down from Merlin’s chest to the waistband of his trousers, and he pressed a palm against Merlin’s erection, pushing up through the rough fabric. Merlin arched up at his touch, groaning into Arthur’s mouth, and Arthur took that as permission to keep going. He fumbled for a moment to untie the knot, but then it was undone, and Arthur was shoving Merlin’s trousers down past his hips. He fisted Merlin’s cock, running his thumb over the slit of the head, wet with pre-come, and he felt Merlin shudder with delight.

He started to stroke Merlin, slowly at first, enjoying the feel of his warm cock pulsating with pleasure in Arthur’s hand. They stood so close to one another that there were a couple of instances where his knuckles brushed against his own erection, throbbing almost painfully in the confines of his trousers, and he hissed at the contact. Before he could think to do anything to rectify the situation, Merlin was tugging his trousers down, wrapping his own hand around Arthur’s eager dick, and he instinctively arched up into Merlin’s thrusts.

Memories of Merlin’s sprained wrist floated back to him then, and he didn’t want him to further aggravate the injury. Stilling his own hand and momentarily removing it from Merlin’s cock, Arthur reached over and grabbed onto Merlin’s own wrist.

Leaning in, Arthur whispered, “Let me,” into Merlin’s ear, and all Merlin seemed capable of doing was nodding in response.

With one hand Arthur reached around and cupped Merlin’s arse, holding him in place. Pressing their cocks together, shivering at the skin on skin contact, Arthur wrapped his hand around them both and began to stroke, gently at first and then with heightened intensity. Merlin gasped, thrusting up into Arthur’s hand, and their balls rubbed against one another, sending another wave of pleasure through their bodies.

Merlin’s mouth chased his, capturing lips once more in a wet, filthy open-mouthed kiss as Arthur continued to stroke them both with firm, rhythmic movements. When they parted for air, Arthur buried his face in Merlin’s neck, sucking at the soft skin where neck met shoulder. One of Merlin’s hands grasped at Arthur’s lower back while the other simply held onto his bicep, steadying them both. Their breathing had sped up significantly, and Arthur was so close to release, could tell that Merlin was also nearing his own climax.

“Gods, Arthur... I’m close, so close...” he groaned into Arthur’s ear. And then he was coming, spilling into Arthur’s hand with a cry so raw and beautiful that Arthur couldn’t hold on any longer either, and a moment later he was coming as well. Arthur continued to stroke them through wave after wave of pleasure as they thrust up into his hand simultaneously, the intensity so overwhelming that he thought he might pass out. When they were finally done, cocks raw and sensitive, Arthur dropped his hand, wrapping both arms around Merlin’s waist instead, pulling him as close as possible, burying his face in Merlin’s neck.

They remained like that for several minutes, holding onto one another fiercely as they struggled to catch their breath and sort through their emotions. Arthur never wanted to let Merlin go, never wanted this moment to end.

“Don’t leave me,” Arthur breathed into his neck, desperate and raw and more vulnerable than he’d possibly ever been in his entire life.

And Merlin clutched at him desperately, hands fisting at the back of his tunic as he tried to pull Arthur impossibly closer. “I won’t... I promise, I won’t ever leave you, Arthur. I promise...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find [itzcoatl](http://itzcoatl.livejournal.com/)’s _stunningly gorgeous_ artwork for my fic [right here.](http://switchsword.livejournal.com/773.html) But please note: there are apoilers in the art for chapters 6 & 7!


	8. Chapter 8

**This Dark Road Will Lead Us Where We Want to Be -- Part Eight**

The ride the rest of the afternoon was far more pleasant than it’d been that morning, mild awkwardness aside. After cleaning themselves up, Merlin had been full of ridiculous grins, which he’d tried to hide, though his efforts were mostly unsuccessful. Arthur made a point to insult Merlin as much as he could, just to re-establish some of their normal footing, but even he hadn’t been able to hold back the odd smile, directed at no one and nothing in particular. Truthfully, Arthur had no idea what, exactly, this meant for them -- how things would change from this point on, if they would at all -- but he chose not to dwell on it too much. He and Merlin still had a great number of things to work out and conversations to have, but with some of that tension out of the way, Arthur hoped they’d be able to dedicate more time to actually figuring out this soul bonding mission they were headed for. By his calculations, they should reach their destination by mid-afternoon tomorrow, and he didn’t want to arrive completely unprepared. He also permitted himself a moment to wonder where his knights were, and if they were all right. From what Arthur could tell, he and Merlin were still a good day and a half ahead of them, and Arthur hoped nothing had gone wrong.  
   
“Have you ever heard of this high priestess before?” Arthur asked, glancing over at Merlin as they trotted along their path, enough space on the trail for their horses to ride side-by-side.  
   
Merlin squinted. “No, I don’t think so. Er, I thought there was only one high priestess of the Old Religion, but I guess I was wrong.”  
   
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Arthur retorted playfully, and Merlin shot him a heated glare before breaking into a soft laugh. It made Arthur’s heart feel light, and he wondered when, exactly, it was that he’d turned into a complete girl.  
   
“Gaius said that there would be trials, and that they could be dangerous,” Arthur said, realising in that moment that they hadn’t really had any in-depth conversations about any of this yet. “I’m not entirely sure if the trials occur before we speak with the high priestess, or if they happen before we break the bond...” Arthur trailed off, feeling a sense of immense sadness overwhelm him all of a sudden, and he looked over at Merlin to see that his gaze was focused on the cuff of his sleeve.  
   
“I guess it doesn’t matter either way, if we’re going to have to face the trials regardless,” Merlin said, shrugging. But Arthur could tell something was bothering him, could feel it in a way, even as he recognised how silly that seemed.  
   
“I suppose so,” he agreed carefully, weighing whether or not to delve into the topic further. But then Merlin was speaking, and the decision was momentarily taken out of his hands.  
   
“Do you think we should do something to prepare ahead of time?” he wondered.  
   
Arthur reached up to scratch at the back of his neck, rolling his shoulders in a slow stretch as he contemplated the question. “Perhaps if we knew what to expect for the trials... As it stands, it could be anything, I would imagine.”  
   
Merlin frowned, eyes crinkling downwards. “That’s not overly helpful, is it?” he remarked.  
   
“No, I suppose not,” Arthur said. And that was that.  
   
They fell into a comfortable silence then, trotting along at a steady pace, the clip-clop of hooves soothing the uneasy feeling Arthur had in the pit of his stomach.

He hadn’t had much time to ponder the trials. In fact, Arthur really hadn’t even allowed himself to think about his bond with Merlin all that much, though he had been spending an inordinate amount of time thinking about _Merlin_ in general. In some ways it felt as though nothing had changed, and in other ways, it was as if there’d been a whole new world opened up to him in the past few weeks. There were so many issues that’d come up from the discovery of Merlin’s magic, but in some ways, perhaps they would be able to move forward more easily, now that everything was finally out in the open. Arthur could only hope, even though he still felt raw from the reality of the truths he’d so recently learned.

“Arthur?”  
   
He was pulled from his thoughts. Glancing over at Merlin, he raised his eyebrows expectantly.  
   
"Do you think it'll be dangerous?"  
   
"Do I think what will be dangerous?"  
   
"Breaking our soul bond."  
   
"Oh." He pondered this thought for a few moments. Gaius had said the trials would potentially be dangerous, but he hadn't said anything about the actual bond breaking process itself. "I don't know," was what he finally settled on. "I suppose it's possible, but it was easy enough to do the spell, so in theory, shouldn't it also be easy to undo the spell?"  
   
Merlin eyed him, considering. "I don't know if magic works like that. Just because it was easy to do doesn't mean that it'll be just as simple to reverse."

“Why not?”

“Because everything has a consequence. If I were to, say, call lighting down from the sky right now and destroy that tree over there --” He pointed at a passing oak, leaves swaying in the breeze.

“You can do that?” Arthur interrupted, once again.

“Yes, quite easily,” Merlin said with a little smile. “But anyway, let’s say I was to use magic to rip apart that tree. It was a relatively easy spell to cast. However, fixing the tree isn’t nearly as simple. I would have to put the wood back together, bind the branches, re-attach the leaves, and so on. It’d be a long and complicated process that may not even be possible at all.”

Arthur considered this. “Not even with magic?”

“Well, it’d probably be possible with magic,” Merlin said, scrunching up his face in a manner that Arthur absolutely did not find endearing, as that wouldn’t be manly or becoming of him at all. “But it would be more complicated. And without magic, you might as well just say farewell to the tree right now.”

It made sense. Or at least as much sense as magic could make, which wasn't necessarily saying much. And while Merlin didn't know a hell of a lot about most things, he was certainly the expert in this field. "Are you worried?" he asked.  
   
The sound of hooves and the whip of wind filled the air between them for a few moments before Merlin angled his head towards Arthur, lips pressed in a tight line. "I wouldn't say I'm worried, exactly. I just think it might be risky for us, is all. I mean, I suppose it depends on how strong the bond is, or something along those lines, so I hear. From Gaius. I’d imagine it’s a fairly strong one. Of course, I’ve always felt connected to you even before we were bonded, so maybe it isn’t that different in the end, not that I know all that much about bonding to begin with though...”

“Merlin.” Arthur interrupted his rambling tirade. “Focus,” he said. And then, because they were quite close and he could, Arthur reached over and gave Merlin’s knee an affectionate squeeze.

Merlin’s eyes dropped to where Arthur’s hand lingered for just a moment too long, flushing right to the tips of his ears, and this time Arthur really couldn’t deny how adorable he found Merlin, though he was able to successfully keep the thought to himself. Merlin nodded, floundering for words.

“What I mean is, I’ve heard a few stories about human-animal bonds, and how the breaking of the bond can be hard on both parties,” Merlin explained, seeming to have his wits about him once more. “For example, apparently one man somehow accidentally bonded himself to his dog, and then when he tried to unbind them, both he and the dog got really depressed, and the dog stopped eating and sleeping. Not sure how accurate that information is, of course. I’m just concerned about the effect it might have on two humans.”

Arthur considered this information, feeling a sense of hesitation radiating from Merlin about the whole thing. "Are you saying that you don't want to break the bond?" If there was a hopeful quality to his tone, Arthur chose to ignore it entirely.

Merlin, on the other hand, seemed to pick up on it immediately. “Are _you_ saying that you don’t want to break it?” he countered.

Truthfully, there was no good way to answer that question. His heart was leaning in one direction, but the logical part of his brain kept throwing out reminders that it wasn’t just the two of them he had to think about, but all of Camelot. In the end, he decided not to answer at all.

* * *

“So, once we pass over this hilly section, we should be there. I imagine by late afternoon tomorrow,” Arthur told Merlin as they reviewed their travel plans that evening while dinner cooked over the fire. His finger stabbed the map, tracing their expected course for the following day while Merlin watched over his shoulder.

“I’m no expert,” Merlin said, and Arthur refrained from commenting on this statement, “but wouldn’t it make more sense for us to go this way instead?” He tapped the place on the map where Arthur’s finger had been, and traced a diagonal line towards the identified destination, completely skipping over the hills.

Arthur smacked Merlin’s arm, rolling his eyes at the man as Merlin’s eyes narrowed at his antics. “You’ve got that right, Merlin. You _aren’t_ an expert.” Arthur drew invisible circles around a section of the map that Merlin had suggested they travel through and arched a brow in his direction. “This, right here, is a swamp. Unless you’ve got some magical spell to make our horses sprout wings and fly us over it, I highly doubt this would be an efficacious route to take.”

He stood, stretching his arms to the sky, and made a grand gesture of walking over to the fire to check on the food. “Leave the navigation to the experts,” he said, smirking at Merlin. The sight of Merlin, sulking with an obvious pout on his delicious lips, did something to Arthur, and he felt his stomach flutter in appreciation.

Merlin made no attempt to hide the exaggerated eye roll. “You really are a right prat, aren’t you? Just for that, you have to eat the burnt piece of meat.”

Arthur eyed the meat roasting over the fire with suspicion. “There’s nothing burnt here,” he pointed out.

Foreign words fluttered out of Merlin’s mouth, eyes washing with gold before fading back to a rich blue once more, and Arthur turned to stare at their dinner. “There is now,” Merlin said with glee. Sure enough, one of the roasting pieces of meat was blackened, as if covered in a layer of soot. Arthur glared. Merlin laughed, filled with such delight at Arthur’s response that it was all he could do not to jump Merlin and maul him right then and there.

* * *

In the end, Arthur made Merlin eat the burnt meat, if for no other reason than to reassert who was ultimately in charge here, much as he granted Merlin far more freedom than anyone else he’d ever dealt with in the past. It would do no good to allow Merlin to think he had any power in their relationship, despite the fact that they were both well aware that he very much _did_.

Besides, Merlin’s grumbling the entire meal provided more entertainment than he’d experienced in a very long time, and that alone made the whole thing worth it.

Following dinner, they sat and conversed by the fire, sharing stories from their pasts, and Arthur discovered he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been able to talk so freely. It felt nice, in an unfamiliar and yet entirely comfortable way, as if he’d been granted some special, private gift reserved solely for him. Arthur was well aware of what they were heading off to do the next day, and his heart clenched painfully at the mere thought of being separated from Merlin, but for the night, he simply wanted to enjoy being in Merlin’s company again, as if they were back to merely being manservant and master, at least for a few moments.

Eventually, though, the talking slowed and was filled alternately with silence and muffled yawns.

“I think we should probably get to sleep,” Merlin said after they both yawned into their hands simultaneously.

“I’ll decide when I go to sleep, thank you,” Arthur retorted, but he was already making to get ready for bed. It’d been another long, emotionally-charged day, and he was ready to call it a night.

Arthur typically wasn't the overly affectionate type, with friends and family or with past lovers. He preferred a pat on the back, a firm squeeze of the shoulder, or a meaningful look. Truthfully, he wasn't even that accustomed to hugging others, because he'd rarely been hugged as a child, and by the time he'd grown, Arthur believed that real men didn't need physical affection in the form of hugs. But it was cold, and they were alone, and most importantly, there was something different about Merlin. The man had somehow managed to elicit a strong protective nature in Arthur, and the fact that he challenged Arthur, saw him as a man first and a prince second, made a world of difference, oddly enough. He was routinely more physical with Merlin -- had been since almost the first day they met -- though there was no real reason that Arthur could identify, except that Merlin made him feel comfortable. And _safe_ , strange as that may have been, coming from someone like Arthur. He also tried not to allow himself to think about the fact that he only had a few days left with Merlin, very adamantly telling himself that his sudden affectionate behaviour had little to do with that fact.  
   
So he waited for Merlin to settle down on the ground beside him before shifting closer and wrapping a protective arm around Merlin's waist. At first Merlin tensed up, probably with surprise at the unexpected action, but after a moment he relaxed into Arthur's hold, leaning back into his embrace until they were virtually melted together in the cool night.

The sound of crickets and Merlin's steady breathing began to lull Arthur to sleep, the mental and physical exhaustion from the past couple of days finally hitting home. But then Merlin's breathing hitched ever so slightly, and it quickly became apparent that he was still awake.  
   
"The Dragonlord -- Balinor -- he was my father," Merlin said suddenly, voice filled with impending sleep, as though the comment were an afterthought to some imaginary conversation and not an incredibly significant revelation. It was barely above a whisper, but the words hit Arthur like a battle axe to his chest.  
   
Now it was Arthur's turn to tense up. "What?"  
   
"I never knew. Not until the day we set out to find him, that is. Gaius told me before we left." He spoke with careful words, voice betraying nothing of his feelings on the subject.  
   
Arthur pulled away from Merlin, propping himself up on his right elbow as he stared down at him. Merlin flopped easily to his back at the sudden loss of support. Even though the darkness hid most evident signs of Merlin's emotional state, Arthur could see that he was trying unsuccessfully to mask his feelings.  
   
"So you'd never met him until that day... Until we arrived in his cav-- home?" he corrected, and couldn't quite believe the words that were coming out of his mouth.  
   
"Yes." Merlin closed his eyes, turning his head away from Arthur to face the waning flames of the fire. "I was so excited. I planned on taking him back to Ealdor to see my mother again once the business with the dragon was done. But then he..." he paused for a moment, breath shallow, voice breaking as he continued, "Then he died, saving my life..."  
   
He sounded young and broken all of a sudden, and suddenly Arthur had a whole new appreciation for Merlin's severe emotional downturn over the past several months. It was bad enough that he'd lost Freya, poisoned a close friend, and released the dragon -- things he was still choosing not to think too hard on at the moment -- but Merlin had found the father he'd always longed to know, only to have him die a few days later. It made Arthur feel ill suddenly, and he was struck with the knowledge that the sorrow that began to flow through him was not just his own, but Merlin's as well. He felt _for_ Merlin, but something was different this time around. It was almost as if he could feel Merlin's heart, fully experience the emotions that were racing through it, and his own clenched painfully at the combined weight of their burden.

"I barely had a chance to get to know him before he was taken away from me," Merlin carried on quietly, as though he weren't speaking to Arthur at all, and another wave of emotion surged through Arthur, feeling both foreign and familiar at the same time.

"Merlin, I'm so sorry," Arthur said, reaching out to cup Merlin’s face, gently running his thumb across the skin on his jaw line, and Merlin eagerly turned in to the touch. Arthur wasn't fantastic at expressing sympathy, but he meant the words with every fibre of his being. How Merlin even managed to function so well at all in the past few months was truly a marvel to Arthur. Had the situation been reversed, Arthur was quite sure he wouldn't have been able to keep himself together. Hell, he hadn't exactly reacted well to Merlin's confession the night prior, far too focussed on his own sense of betrayal to fully appreciate the emotional complexities and impact of each of those events. But he felt it now, coiling in his stomach and flowing through every inch of his body.  
   
Merlin turned sad eyes to him, filled with unshed tears, and smiled. "I know you are." He reached up and placed a hand on Arthur's heart. "I can feel it. Thank you."

"Why didn't you tell me?" He didn't want Merlin to feel threatened right now, especially since their earlier incident was still fresh in both minds, but he didn't want Merlin to think that he couldn't have told Arthur, that he wouldn't have cared.  
   
Merlin quirked a shoulder. "Gaius told me not to and I felt trapped. I wanted to tell you, believe me I did. But I just... couldn't."

A few stray tears fell from the corner of his eye, and without thinking, Arthur wiped them away with the pad of his thumb. “I’m sorry for yelling at you last night,” he said unexpectedly. “And earlier today.”

Merlin shook his head. “No, you had every right. I’ve done some horrible things.” Arthur’s chest clenched, but he willed the feeling away. “I’m sorry I lied to you.”  
   
There was no doubt as to the truthfulness of the statement, so Arthur nodded and smiled at him, accepting the apology.

“At least our conversation this morning wasn’t all fighting...” Merlin trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air, and Arthur flushed at the memory.

Suddenly another thought came to mind. "Wait... I didn't actually kill the dragon, did I?" Arthur's hand fell from Merlin's face, moving to rest atop his left shoulder instead.

Merlin’s expression shifted to one of sheepish guilt, but there was a bit of a glint in his eyes. “Define ‘kill’,” he said.

In spite of everything, he couldn’t help the laugh that erupted from his belly, deep and full. “Gods, I’m sure I don’t even want to know, do I?” Arthur asked, leaning down and burying his face in Merlin’s shoulder.

A hand threaded through Arthur’s hair, fingers stroking his scalp both soothing and affectionate. “When Bali-- my father died his powers passed along to me.”

“So, you killed the dragon, then?”

Merlin tensed beneath him, fingers stalling in his hair. “Not exactly. I, er, sent him away?”

For the second time, Arthur rolled off of Merlin, propping on his arms and staring down at him in disbelief. “You sent him away? Just said, ‘Nice knowing you, see you later?’ kind of thing?”

“No, it wasn’t like that.”

“Then how was it?”

Merlin sighed. “I granted him mercy and made him swear to never come near Camelot again, or I _would_ kill him.”

It was so damn typical of Merlin’s character that Arthur couldn’t even find it in himself to be upset by the action. Shaking his head, Arthur shot him a pointed look. “Why am I not surprised?” A beat passed and then, “Is there anything else you’d like to share with me that I might want to know, and _not_ be surprised about later?”

“Erm...” Merlin said. Arthur shot him a warning look, which seemed to open up his vocal cords once more. “Morgana also has magical abilities...?”

Arthur swore. Loudly. Questions immediately popped into his mind, ranging from _when the hell did this happen?_ to _how did you know?_ But after taking a calming breath, he decided such details weren’t important at this very moment. “Does she know about you?”

The response was swift and confident, which came as a great reassurance to Arthur. “No.”

That was good, especially considering the resentment she must currently be harbouring for him. “Anything else?”

“No, I think that’s it,” Merlin said after a pause.

“Okay, then let’s go to sleep,” he declared, and proceeded to flop back down on the bedroll. A moment later, Merlin rolled over, when it became apparent that Arthur was officially done with the conversation for the moment.

Arthur lay awake that night until he was sure Merlin had finally fallen asleep. Then he pressed a soft kiss to the back of his neck, and burying his face in Merlin’s shoulder, Arthur eventually settled down for the night. 

* * *

Merlin looked so peaceful -- so utterly _content_ \-- while he slept, that Arthur almost didn't want to wake him. The thought of breaking their bond had been weighing heavily on his mind ever since Uther first suggested it, and Arthur supposed that if he were being honest with himself, he always suspected that it would have to happen eventually. But now that they were at the cusp of that change, something dark and heavy weighed in his gut, and Arthur wasn't quite sure if he could go through with it.  
   
Merlin emitted a soft gasp then, and as he shifted in his sleep, some of his hair fell across closed eyes and a pale forehead. It may have been the soft light of the morning, the slight flush of his warm cheeks, or the delicate angles of his face, but in that very moment, Arthur was struck by how beautiful Merlin truly was. He'd always found him appealing in a sort of preternatural manner, what with his big ears, sharp cheekbones, and crooked grin. Merlin was not classically handsome by any stretch of the imagination, but Arthur still found himself mesmerised at times, when the light played off his angular features or he gazed up at Arthur through long, dark lashes or when he smirked with a mischievous glint in his eyes that Arthur privately believed was reserved entirely for him. Little moments here and there, which he'd brushed off as mere sentimental affection at the time, now came rushing back to him in full force, and suddenly what hadn't made any sense before was all starting to click into place like a perfect symphony.

He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Merlin’s forehead, fingers diving into his dark hair of their own accord, smoothing it away from his face and burrowing in its softness. Merlin stirred slightly but didn’t wake, so Arthur pressed a kiss to his closed eye, his nose, the jut of his cheekbone, his chin. By the time Arthur reached Merlin’s mouth, he was beginning to wake, eyes clouded with sleep slowly emerging from behind heavy lids. Arthur smiled at him, warmth and arousal pooling in his belly at the sight of Merlin’s drowsy, lopsided grin.

“Mornin’,” Merlin mumbled sleepily, and closed the gap between them.

The kiss was gentle and slow to begin, a warm caress of lips and tongues as they emerged from a sleepy state of awareness. Arthur delved into it, cupping Merlin’s face as he explored his mouth in a way that he hadn’t been able to the previous day, tasting and savouring Merlin in every way that he could. Merlin tugged Arthur closer, arms wrapping around his waist as hands slid beneath his tunic.

“Good morning to you, too,” Arthur whispered fondly, when they separated for air.

“It is now,” Merlin agreed, grinning like a fool, his smile so bright it was practically blinding. He continued to trail fingers up and down the expanse of Arthur’s back, and Arthur fought against the shiver that was threatening to shoot through his body.

This was still new territory for them both, but Arthur knew without any doubt that he wanted Merlin; his body’s physical reaction telling the truth on his behalf, and if Merlin’s eagerness thus far was any indication, he felt the same way as well. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to Merlin’s once again. But unlike before, this kiss quickly moved from chaste to filthy and wet as pent-up desire flooded his veins and pooled in Arthur’s stomach and groin. Arthur could feel Merlin’s erection pressing into his thigh, mirroring his own stiff cock, and he instinctively ground into him, eliciting a needy moan from Merlin as they spent several moments rutting against one another, craving the heat and the friction until it wasn’t enough. Arthur needed to feel Merlin, to taste and touch and have access to everything.

“Too much clothing,” he protested briefly, when they parted for air, and he reluctantly pulled away from Merlin to start taking off his clothes. Merlin joined him, and they spent several hurried moments struggling to get each other out of the material that currently prevented further exploration of each other’s bodies.

When they were both finally naked, Arthur gently pushed Merlin back to the ground, open and completely pliant under his hands. He took a moment to simply bask in the sight before his eyes -- sharp collarbones framing the deep hollows of his neck, lean muscles stretched taut beneath milky skin, gleaming with a light sheen of sweat from the early morning sun, hips angular and firm. His cock twitched against his belly, hard and swollen with arousal, the light glint of pre-come glistening at the head. Merlin gazed up at him, eyes blown wide with desire, hair mussed, lips swollen, red and parted. He was a breathtaking sight to behold, and Arthur felt his breath hitch at the sight of the gorgeous man lying before him.

“You’re absolutely beautiful,” Arthur told him in the heat of the moment, as he leaned forward to capture Merlin’s mouth in a bruising kiss, pressing their bodies together from chest to toes. Merlin arched up into his mouth at the same time he thrust his hips, and the brush of their naked cocks sent a wave of pleasure soaring through Arthur’s body.

After a few minutes, Arthur moved to press lips against Merlin’s jaw, trailing wet, hot kisses down his neck, pausing to suck on the skin beneath his Adam’s apple. Merlin groaned as Arthur traveled down his body, teeth brushing against his nipple that was already hard with arousal, and he enjoyed feeling the shiver of pleasure ripple through Merlin as his tongue circled the tip.

Arthur trailed a hand down Merlin’s thigh, running fingers against the sensitive skin. Instead his hand trailed further south to brush against Merlin’s entrance, thumb ghosting across the opening as he glanced up hesitantly at him. “Can I...? Merlin, I want...” He couldn’t quite get out the words to formulate the request, one he’d only just realised how badly he wanted, but Merlin reached out to touch his arm, eyes dark with arousal and he nodded.

“Please, Arthur. Yes,” Merlin begged, answering the question that hadn’t even been asked as he spread his legs further apart.

Arthur shuddered, blood pounding through his skull like thunder and he felt almost weak with lust. They had oil somewhere, he knew. It was with their emergency supplies, and Arthur rose to retrieve it, fumbling several times in the process. But he finally found the small bottle, and returned to kneel between Merlin, ready and waiting for him.

Generously applying the oil to his hand, he inserted the first finger into Merlin’s entrance, slowly pushing the finger into his heat. Merlin groaned, eyes fluttering shut, as he worked his way into the tight space.

“Are you all right?” Arthur asked.

“Mmmm, yeah. Feels good,” Merlin cooed back, pushing into him so the finger slid further inside. “Keep going.”

He moved fairly quickly at that point, adding a second and then a third finger to Merlin’s hole, stretching him wide open as he simultaneously pressed kisses to his chest, stomach, inner thighs, knees. Merlin bucked under him, seeking the sensation, and he looked so completely aroused and content that Arthur thought he might have been able to come from the sight alone.

Deciding he was ready, Arthur pulled his fingers out of Merlin, and Merlin immediately whined in protest.

“Hurry, Arthur... _please_ ,” he urged, hands fisting into the fabric of the blanket they lay on.

Arthur coated his hand once more and wrapped it around his throbbing cock, slicking the skin. Taking a moment, he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths as he tried to still his racing heart and calm his body. He was afraid he would come before he even pushed into Merlin, and he wanted to make this brilliant for both of them. Finally, once Arthur felt he’d regained a tiny bit of control, he spread Merlin’s legs as far as they would go and began to push the tip of his cock into Merlin, past the first ring of muscle.

He was hot and deliciously tight as Arthur carefully eased into Merlin, not desiring to hurt him in any way. “Does this feel all right?” Arthur asked, pausing as he waited for confirmation.

“It’s tight, but I’m fine. Keep going.” And to signify that he meant business, Merlin’s hands found Arthur’s hips, fingers digging into the prominent bones as he helped pull Arthur further into his body.

Merlin’s heat and the pressure of his body clenched around Arthur’s cock as he pushed himself all the way in, until his balls rested against Merlin’s entrance. It felt _unbelievably_ good, and he hadn’t even started moving yet. At the same time, a million emotions bombarded Arthur right in that moment, filling him and terrifying him until he was nearly paralysed from the sheer intensity of it all.

“Arthur, is everything all right?” Merlin asked, concern edging into his voice.

Arthur nodded weakly, eyes still closed as he continued to reel from the fact that he was actually _inside_ Merlin, cock wrapped tight in his heat. It was amazing and overwhelming and he just needed a moment to absorb it all. “Yeah... I’m... yeah,” he eventually stuttered out, unable to form anything more coherent at the moment.

A hand came up to hold his face, thumb rubbing against his cheekbone. “Arthur, look at me.”

He forced his eyes open, staring down at Merlin’s beautiful face, and the trust and affection he saw reflected in Merlin’s eyes nearly brought tears to his own. “You’re fine. I’m fine. It’s going to be brilliant. But you need to trust me and start moving, all right? It’s going to be so good.”

Merlin pulled him down and kissed his mouth hard, tongue darting past Arthur’s lips and invading his mouth almost immediately. Arthur moaned headily in response, and a moment later, he felt Merlin’s hands on his hips once more, coaxing him back. Slowly, Arthur began to move inside Merlin, pulling back and then thrusting into him once more. They struggled for a few moments to develop a rhythm, one that worked for both of them, as Merlin’s legs locked around Arthur’s lower back, and he moved in time with Arthur’s thrusts.

“Faster, Arthur,” Merlin said after a few moments, and Arthur would be damned if his bossy insistence wasn’t the hottest thing he’d ever heard in his life.

Not wanting to disobey, Arthur sped up his pace, Merlin working with him, and within moments he could feel the pleasure soaring through his body. He let out a string of curses as the pleasure built further, threatening to push him over the edge.

A few moments later, and Merlin was reaching for his own neglected dick, but Arthur wanted to be the one to bring him off. Batting his hands away, he fumbled to grab hold of Merlin’s cock and started to stroke as he continued to thrust almost violently into him, other arm bearing the brunt of the rest of his weight. His grip was flimsy at best, but it seemed to be enough to do the job, and after several strokes, Merlin came with a fervent intensity, screaming Arthur’s name as his seed spilled onto Arthur’s hand and across his stomach. He pumped Merlin through the aftershocks, even as he felt his own climax building, so close and so intense.

“Gods, Merlin... _Merlin_ ,” Arthur cried out as he thrust into him once more, and then he was coming as well. He slammed into Merlin as the release overwhelmed him, taking over every one of his senses, and he had to struggle to stay conscious and breathing as wave after wave of pleasure wracked his entire body. He’d had sex before -- with both women and men -- and while he always enjoyed himself, his orgasms had never felt quite like _this_ before; as though he’d been taken apart and put back together in the course of twenty seconds. Maybe it was the magic, maybe it was the bond, or maybe it was simply _Merlin_. But he knew he would not tire of this ever, desired no one but Merlin, and idly wondered why they’d never allowed themselves to experience this kind of pleasure before. He continued to thrust until his cock began to soften, and reluctantly he pulled free of Merlin with a slight hiss, collapsing onto his chest, absolutely spent.

They lay there for several moments, completely exhausted, breathing heavily. Arthur felt so good that he didn’t even care about the mess they’d made of each other and the blanket they’d been lying on.

“That was amazing,” Merlin murmured a few minutes later, and Arthur couldn’t do much more than hum his approval, tightening his arm around Merlin’s chest just slightly.

He felt a hand curl into his hair, and Arthur tipped his head up to capture Merlin’s mouth once more. Something raw and a little desperate crept into the kiss this time, as the reality of their impending departure suddenly invaded Arthur’s mind, and he wanted to taste and explore every inch of this mouth in case they wouldn’t be able to do it any longer.

Eventually, they pulled apart, still too spent to give it another round just yet, and prepared to head out on the final leg of their journey.

* * *

  
   
Travel was relatively quick that entire morning, despite the fact that Merlin was somewhat on the sore side, though he’d used magic to heal some of his tenderness. At one point they stopped to check on the saddles, and when Arthur was certain they were still slightly ahead of schedule, they had sex again. He knew he was acting like a horny teenager, but with the knowledge that this wouldn’t be happening again anytime soon looming on the horizon, he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

The building they’d been searching for finally came into view after ascending the final peak of what seemed to be a never-ending series of hills most of the morning.  
   
"Do you think that's it?" Merlin asked, pointing to the only structure in the valley, as they trotted their way towards it.  
   
"I'm going to assume so," Arthur said, holding back the desire to mock him for such an obvious question.  
   
A few trees surrounded the building, and they decided this would be a good place to tie up the horses. Arthur surveyed the structure as they neared, noting that it wasn't overly impressive. It was several stories high, but no tower by any stretch of the imagination.  
   
Arthur tossed a quick glance over at Merlin, raising a questioning brow before asking, "You ready to go?"  
   
Merlin nodded, looking even less confident than Arthur felt, which wasn't saying much.  
   
They made their way to what appeared to be the front door of the building, picking through waves of tall grass extending almost up to Arthur's knees. He took a deep breath, the magnitude of what they were about to do only hitting him in that very moment. Reaching out, he grabbed for the handle. _It's now or never_ , he thought sardonically.

“Wait.” Merlin pressed a hand into Arthur’s chest, halting his movement.

Arthur cocked a brow and turned to study Merlin curiously. “What is it?” he asked.

“I don’t know, exactly. I’m just getting...” he took a few steps forward, holding both arms out as though feeling some invisible force, “...a sense of some very powerful magic here. I can’t get a proper feeling about it, but I think it could be dangerous.”

It didn’t appear all that dangerous from the outside. In fact, it simply looked like an old, abandoned building -- a bit too small to call a castle, but far too large to call a house -- that was overrun with shrubbery and appeared to have a questionable structure, at best. Vines snaked up the sides of the building, twisting and curling around most of the open space, creating a veritable green wall down the front of the structure. Arthur squinted up at the building, shielding his eyes from the harsh sunlight, wondering what lay beyond the front doors.

“I guess that means we found what we were looking for,” Arthur announced, with more satisfaction than he felt.

“But how safe is it for us to enter?” Merlin said, eyeing the structure with suspicion.

Arthur shrugged, attempting to put on an air of nonchalance. “I’m not sure what choice we have in the matter. Come on, Merlin, let’s go,” Arthur said, clapping him lightly on the shoulder before picking his way through the grass towards the entrance.

*****

The next five minutes were spent arguing about who should enter the building first. Merlin insisted that he should be the one to lead the way, as this was clearly a magical place and he would be better equipped to deal with whatever they found on the other side. Arthur, on the other hand, argued that he was the warrior with a great deal more experience than Merlin when it came to virtually everything, save for actually performing magic, and that Merlin would be entering first over his dead body. To which Merlin pointed out that it would also be over _his own_ dead body, so that plan would really accomplish very little. Arthur cuffed him on the back of the head, but secretly rejoiced at the lightheartedness of the interaction. It temporarily made the ache in his heart feel less prominent, and if he could forget that they had to go their separate ways once the bond was broken, even for a few minutes, he would take it.

In the end, they both agreed, somewhat reluctantly, to enter at the same time. For such an old building, the doors swung open with little effort, creaking noisily but otherwise without difficulty, and Arthur couldn’t help but think the whole thing was a bit on the suspicious side.

He felt it almost immediately upon stepping through the threshold. A jolt of lightning passed through the air around them, crackling with a palpable energy, and Arthur jumped in shock as it rippled through his limbs from head to toe, sending a wave of goosebumps up his arms. Eyes widening in confusion, Arthur turned to Merlin.

“What the hell was that?” he asked, glancing around the room and then back at the doorway they’d just passed through, limbs still buzzing with energy. It wasn’t unpleasant, exactly, just different, and unexpected.

Merlin cast him a sidelong glance, face scrunched up uncomfortably as he bounced up and down a few times on the spot. “I think we just walked through a magic barrier, or something.”

“A magic barrier?” Arthur parroted, taking a moment to scan the room they’d just entered.

“Yeah. My whole body is practically vibrating with the energy in this place.”

That probably wasn’t the best news, but Arthur supposed it made sense, considering this was the rumoured dwelling of the high priestess they sought. He just hoped she was one of those sorcerers like Merlin -- kind and compassionate, and not hell-bent on Arthur’s destruction, as so many others seemed to be. He silently prayed to whatever gods might be listening that they were not unnecessarily endangering their lives simply by being here.

“Mmm... good to know,” he said, somewhat distractedly.

The entranceway to the building immediately opened up into a large archway, which contained an empty, square-shaped room. It appeared to have possibly been a dining hall at some point, as several long tables covered in a thick layer of dust sat back against the walls, several stray dining chairs littering the corners. Light poured into the room through two large windows set on opposite walls, perpendicular to the direction they faced. Specks of dust danced in the streams of light, swaying back and forth, as though welcoming them. There was a painting hanging crookedly on the far wall, but the distance was too great to make out any of the details. It hung several feet from the only other visible exit out of the room.

“I guess we only have one way to go,” Arthur said after a moment, pointing to the door on the far back wall. “The sooner we find the high priestess and get the trials over with, the better,” he said, though wasn’t sure he even remotely believed those words any longer.

The dull ache was suddenly back with a vengeance, and Arthur felt a sense of overwhelming sadness descend on him at the realisation that they were close, that they were really going to go through with breaking the soul bond. It hurt a great deal and for a brief moment, Arthur considered grabbing Merlin and dragging him out of this place, turning around and never looking back. But he banished the desire from his mind, taking several steps forward in an attempt to show that he meant business, even when he sensed Merlin’s own hesitation as if he’d come out and said it verbally, though he hadn’t.

“Right,” Merlin agreed, though he sounded anything but confident.

They started making their way across the room, boots scuffing loudly in the emptiness of the large area. There was a creaking sound in the distance, and Arthur was suddenly filled with the knowledge that something was wrong. Without conscious premeditation, he reached out for Merlin, grabbing his arm and pulling him back and off to the side of the room.

“What are you doing?” Merlin demanded, trying to pull his arm free from Arthur’s grasp, but he wasn’t about to let go that easily.

“Shut up. I thought I heard something. Didn’t you?”

“No. But I’m sure it was nothing,” Merlin said, sounding as though he were trying to convince himself, instead of Arthur.

“Yes, well, either way, just be quiet for a moment,” Arthur ordered, squeezing Merlin’s arm for good measure.

Surprisingly, Merlin stopped struggling and allowed Arthur to drag him a few more feet before he seemed satisfied. They stared at one another for a moment, concentration lines etched into their features, and Arthur strained to make out if there were any more noises wafting towards them.

There was nothing for a minute or two, but just before Arthur was about to declare himself this side of over-reacting, he heard something that sounded like scratching. Perhaps like nails on stone, and it reminded him of the sound his dog would make when vying to gain entrance into his room during Arthur’s childhood. It started off quiet, almost imperceptible if one weren’t listening for it, but after a few moments the sound grew, both in volume and intensity.

“You hear that, right?” Arthur demanded, voice barely more than a forced whisper, staring hard at Merlin.

Merlin nodded, eyes wide, apprehension written across his face. “Yes.” He glanced at the far back wall, then back at Arthur. “What do you think it is?”

Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but before he was able to do anything, the door from across the room flew open and suddenly the room was filling with large creatures that appeared to be part dragon and part lizard, crawling their way into the hall. They were approximately ten feet in length, with scaly, reptilian dull green skin. Dragon wings protruded from the shoulder blades of the creatures, stretching a good six feet in the air. Sharp teeth filled small mouths, their heads resembling that of a dragon, only far smaller. Long tails trailed behind the creatures, a cluster of spikes projecting out from a ball of tissue at the tip of their tail. Arthur recognised them instantly; one didn’t forget beasts such as these.

“What the hell are those?” Arthur felt the fear radiating from Merlin’s body as much as he heard it in his voice.

Instinctively, a hand grasped blindly for Merlin’s wrist, tugging him behind Arthur the second he felt flesh beneath his fingers. “They’re called wyverns, and they’re incredibly strong creatures. I accidentally faced one many years back on my own, and it nearly killed me.”

“Are they creatures of magic?” Merlin asked as they inched backwards, towards the front door, with cautious steps. Thus far none had seemed to take note of the two unfamiliar occupants in the room, and Arthur was hoping it would remain that way.

“I don’t know. It was so long ago. All I know is that I hoped I wouldn’t ever have to face one again, and yet here we are, with far more than one.” His voice was registering barely above a whisper now, fearful that any loud noises might startle one of the wyverns into action, which was the last thing they needed.

“Er... do you think maybe we should, um, leave or something?” Merlin suggested helpfully. Arthur held back an eye roll.

“Great plan! I wish I’d thought of it,” he shot back, voice edged with sarcasm. Merlin scoffed in his ear, warm breath sending a shiver down Arthur’s spine.

A moment later they reached the main entrance, backs pressing firmly against the stone wall. Reaching behind him, Arthur’s hand felt its way along the wall, smooth cobblestone shifting to rough wood, and he inwardly rejoiced when his palm closed around the door handle, even though he couldn’t recall actually shutting the door in the first place.

Arthur prodded Merlin gently with his free hand, tugging at the sleeve of his tunic. “Okay, on three, I open the door, and we slip out completely unnoticed. You ready?”

Merlin nodded. Arthur gripped the handle as firmly as he could and took a deep breath. “One, two, three,” he whispered, and promptly pushed back on the door, ready to taste freedom.

Nothing happened. He tried again, but with the same result. By the fifth try, Arthur had actually turned around and was leaning all of his weight into the door, but it hadn’t budged. For good measure, he even pulled on the handle, in case he’d been doing the wrong thing the whole time. It made no difference whatsoever. He let out a long string of curses, just in case that somehow might help. It didn’t.

He felt Merlin’s face press into his neck a moment later, mouth tilted up towards his ear. “You having some trouble?” he asked.

“All right, so it looks like we’re buggered,” Arthur said, pulling his hand away from the door and pressing fingers into closed, frustrated eyes. “I guess we’re going to have to find another way out of here once our business is finished.”

Merlin gulped, Arthur’s eyes drifting to his bobbing Adam’s apple for a moment before scolding himself for getting distracted so easily. “You mean we’re going to have to fight _those_?” He pointed, for good measure, just in case Arthur had somehow missed the army of wyverns that practically filled the room. Sometimes Arthur was still quite sure that Gaius hadn’t been off when he declared Merlin mentally deficient.

“No, it means we’re going to have to go speak to the wyverns and see if they know of another way out,” Arthur said, folding his arms and giving Merlin a _look_.

The responding glare spoke louder than any words could have.

“Of course we have to fight them,” Arthur continued without missing a beat. “Unless you know a teleportation spell...?” He felt a modicum of hope spring up.

“If I knew one, don’t you think I might’ve used it before, say, this very moment?” Merlin shot back dryly.

He shoved Merlin lightly, inwardly rejoicing at the annoyed expression that worked its way onto his face. “It was worth a shot.”

Ignoring Merlin, Arthur unsheathed his sword and took a deep breath. Even while his brain screamed at him that this was a suicide mission, Arthur would be damned if they were going to go down without a fight.

“Merlin, just out of curiosity... exactly _how_ powerful are you again?” Arthur asked, sword poised and ready to strike as he slowly edged forward in order to place himself in a better position to attack. He felt Merlin match his steps, staying close behind.

“Quite,” he responded, voice soft but confident.

“Think you’re strong enough to kill, say, eight of these things?” Arthur asked, eyes never leaving the beasts as he mentally assessed the situation. There were eight that Arthur was able to count, and who knew how many more there were in the room beyond this one. Arthur was a great warrior, and Merlin no doubt quite a powerful magician, but even with that knowledge, their odds weren’t exactly fantastic against that many wyverns. When Arthur had faced one of the creatures as a youth, it’d nearly done him in. Granted, he was stronger, faster and more experienced now -- and he had assistance in the form of a supposedly mighty sorcerer -- but all the same, it seemed kind of grim.

“Erm... Not quite sure. Never been in this kind of situation before, but I guess we’re about to find out, yeah?” Merlin tossed him a completely inappropriate smirk, given the circumstances, and Arthur felt oddly comforted and exhilarated by the gesture.

“Good enough for me,” he said, twirling the sword he held in his right hand in preparation. “And in case we don’t make it,” Arthur leaned in, grabbing Merlin by the scruff of his tunic, and planted a soft kiss on his lips, “it’s been fun.”

The brilliance of Merlin’s responding grin momentarily made Arthur question both of their sanity, but he decided if he was going to die, there was no one else he’d rather have at his side than Merlin.

“On three?”

Merlin grunted in affirmation.

Arthur carried on. “One. Two. Three!”


	9. Chapter 9

** This Dark Road Will Lead Us Where We Want to Be -- Part Nine **

Before Arthur was even able to take a step forward, multiple lightning bolts flew through the air with a crackling intensity, striking every single one of the creatures in the room, and the simultaneous screech of eight wyverns roared through the vicinity, sound both piercing and frightening in equal measure. Arthur's head whipped to the side just in time to catch the fade of Merlin's eyes from a brilliant gold back to blue, hand stretched out towards the creatures. It didn't appear to cause any serious injury to the creatures, but if their stunted movements were any indication, it had at least stunned the wyverns momentarily.  
   
Arthur took advantage of this opportunity, lunging forward and swiping with all his strength at the neck of the first wyvern, blade slicing cleanly through the flesh. Its head fell to the ground with a dull thud, followed a few moments later by the rest of its body. That was one down, with at least seven to go. With little effort, he was able to take out two more of the beasts as he swung his sword at their necks.  
   
But his luck began to fade as he moved towards the fourth beast in the room, most of them having regained their bearings once more. Arthur swung his sword at the wyvern, but it jumped back just in time, preventing the attack from connecting, rearing up on hind legs as it screeched at Arthur. He pulled back, moving into a defensive stance, but the wyvern was surprisingly quick as it swung its own head around, connecting with the right side of Arthur's body, even as he attempted to duck out of the way.  
   
Arthur tumbled a few feet across the room and hit the ground hard, sword flying out of his hand as he rolled further along the floor. Another of the creatures tried to bite him as he rolled past, but Arthur managed to narrowly avoid the attack. He rolled until he reached the wall, jumping to his feet at the same time that he realised three of the wyverns were advancing on him, nearly trapping him against the wall, weaponless and virtually defenceless.  
   
He recognised the danger that now presented itself, and was about to make a mad dash along the wall in the hopes that he'd somehow be able to outrun the wyverns' incredibly powerful attacks along the way, when he heard Merlin's voice ring out from the other side of the room. "Arthur, get down and cover your head!"

He obeyed the command without question, dropping to the floor and curling into a ball with his back to the wall, covering his head protectively while still attempting to catch a glimpse of what was going on. It appeared as if the wyverns were in a prime position to end his life here and now as they advanced a few more feet. But then suddenly a large, glowing orange and red ball of fire was soaring through the air, and it landed on the floor a foot in front of the middle wyvern that was headed towards the prince. Within seconds, it'd moved to engulf all three of the creatures in its flames. Another set of shrill wails pierced the air, the sound so anguished and tortured that Arthur attempted to cover his ears to subdue the noise. He watched through narrowed eyes as the fire seemed to consume the creatures. The smell of rotting flesh filled the air around him, assaulting his nostrils, and sweat pooled on Arthur's forehead, back and chest from the heat of the fire.  
   
Within no more than fifteen seconds, the wyverns had disintegrated into barely more than piles of ash on the floor. It was admittedly one of the most incredible sights Arthur had ever seen -- to literally have the power to roast something from the inside out was both thrilling and terrifying in equal measure -- but the battle was still far from over. Arthur glanced up to see Merlin, still standing on the far side of the room, watching with a mixture of fascination and relief. He appeared out of breath, chest heaving just slightly, almost as if he was recovering from some sort of strenuous physical activity, and Arthur felt worry hedge into his consciousness.  
   
As it turned out, there wasn't any time for Arthur to spend worrying about Merlin's breathing habits, as one of the two remaining wyverns had noticed Merlin and was making its way in his direction. The wyvern howled, the head at the end of its long neck swaying threateningly as it charged towards Merlin, down on all fours.  
   
Arthur heard Merlin's scream before he was even able to warn him. The creature slammed its head into Merlin's stomach, sending him flying backwards across the room. He hit the wall with a sickening thud, body crumpling to the ground, and Arthur felt his breath catch in his throat as fear washed over him.  
   
The creature was still advancing on Merlin, while the other seemed to be contemplating following along. Merlin lay prone on the floor, body twitching as he struggled to sit upright, but Arthur knew there was no way he'd have enough time to stand up and run away from the wyvern before it attacked. He spotted his sword several feet away and made a mad dive to retrieve the weapon.  
   
"Merlin, stay down," Arthur called out, hand gripping the hilt of his sword with an intense ferocity. Arthur knew he only had one chance at doing this right, or they were both finished.  
   
Taking aim, he flung the sword across the room with all his strength, praying for success as he watched it soar through the air. It struck the beast just below its neck, blade impaling the flesh with incredible accuracy. A thrill of joy shot through Arthur briefly, but he knew it wasn't over just yet. The wyvern screeched with alarming intensity, wings fluttering as it jumped up, as though that would somehow dislodge the sword and prevent its imminent death. The beast continued to flop around, cries ringing throughout the room for several moments, movements slowing as time passed. Merlin had managed to right himself, propping up against the wall, and watched the scene play out before him.  
   
After what felt like minutes, the wyvern finally collapsed, toppling over onto the ground, and even from a distance Arthur knew it was dead.  
   
"Are you all right?" Arthur called out to Merlin, as he began to rush over to his side. He saw Merlin nod grudgingly in his direction, and Arthur assumed that his silence was due to the strain he'd just been subjected to. Still, it was enough.  
   
The remaining wyvern roared, throwing its head back before suddenly ducking down and charging towards Merlin. This time there was nothing to throw at the creature, as his sword was still buried in the wyvern lying a few feet away from Merlin, so Arthur did the only thing he could think of.  
   
"Hey, you bastard! Look over here. I've got what you want right here," he yelled out, jumping up and down and waving his hands in the air. He looked ridiculous, but couldn't be bothered to care, if it meant pulling its focus away from Merlin.  
   
The beast halted mid-charge, apparently deciding Arthur's attempts at distraction were worthy of its attention, and it turned to glare at him. It was in this moment that it dawned on Arthur that he needed to come up with a plan besides simply diverting the wyvern from its current course, as he still was weaponless.  
   
Arthur glanced around, weighing his options. There was a chair about six feet away that wouldn't likely accomplish more than scratching the wyvern, but it could potentially delay its progress, which might give Arthur time to race to the other side of the room. He could try rushing for his sword, but if Arthur wasn’t able to dislodge the weapon from the body it currently occupied, Arthur would be risking both their lives yet again. No, he needed to divert the wyvern away from Merlin, and consequently his sword, even if that left Arthur more vulnerable.  
   
Not knowing what else to do, Arthur ducked and rolled away from the beast as it bore down on him, just barely averting the attack. Of course, it only bought him a few extra seconds, but Arthur wasn't going to let that deter him now.  
   
The wyvern roared, whirling around at alarming speeds, tail flying and wings flapping. And then it stopped moving entirely, as if rooted to the spot unexpectedly, as a ball of water arrived virtually out of thin air and engulfed its body. The creature's eyes widened in terror as it opened wide jaws only to be flooded with water. Arthur scurried back, keeping both eyes still trained on the drowning beast as it flailed around helplessly. Arthur was absolutely mesmerised by the sight before him, and then, when it looked as if the wyvern was close to death, the water solidified in a single instant, shifting from liquid to ice. The wyvern remained in place, frozen like a statue in the middle of the room.

Arthur blinked, then slowly turned, just in time to witness Merlin lowering his arm. Amazing.  
   
Within two strides, Arthur had made it across the room to Merlin, hands and eyes immediately conducting a full examination of Merlin's injuries.  
   
"Arthur, I'm fine," Merlin said, but he didn't seem to have the energy to fight off Arthur's prodding hands.  
   
"I'll be the judge of that."

*****

Once satisfied that Merlin didn't have any broken bones and was still able to walk, they permitted themselves a few minutes to rest before carrying on. Merlin remained seated on the floor with his head resting against the back wall, eyes shut as he struggled to catch his breath, Arthur crouching beside the wall, forehead and left hand pressed against its cool surface, sword still clutched in his right hand, dangling down by the floor.

“Bloody hell,” Arthur muttered after a couple of minutes. "I had no idea you actually possessed that kind of power." This was the first time he'd witnessed such an incredible magical attack by the man who'd been just a regular person only a month earlier, and Arthur would be damned if the display of power hadn't been just this side of incredible.

"I haven't really had time to master these skills, obviously," he said, as if what he'd just done was nothing more than a child's magic trick, but there wasn't an ounce of arrogance in his tone.  
   
" _Obviously_ ," Arthur shot back.  
   
Merlin shot him a sidelong glance. “I didn’t really do much. Just sort of helped you out,” he carried on, and Arthur wondered why now, of all times, Merlin chose to take on the role of humble servant, especially when he _should_ be proud of himself for what he’d just done. 

Arthur wasn’t going to allow the opportunity to pass. Merlin deserved more than that. "That's an understatement. You single-handedly killed four wyverns today, Merlin. Four! That's... well, it's something else." The awe returned once more, and he didn't bother trying to hide it any longer. "I've never seen anything like it."  
   
Merlin smirked, looking well pleased with himself all of a sudden. "Thank you. But don't forget that you killed four of them yourself."  
   
"I wouldn't have been able to without your help, I don't think," Arthur admitted, surprised at his own declaration but oddly okay by the fact that he'd just confessed to a weakness of sorts.  
   
Merlin shrugged. "I’ve never used that much elemental magic in one day, so it probably wasn’t as strong as it could’ve been. I just hope I don’t need to do any more. It’s quite exhausting."  
   
“Well, either way, that was pretty damn impressive,” he told Merlin, leaning back on his heels and shooting Merlin a quick smile. “Now if we could just improve your hand-to-hand combat skills, you might just be useful on the battlefield some day.”

Merlin snorted, the sound carrying in the quiet of the empty dining hall. “Why thank you, _sire_.”

“We should get going,” Arthur said a few seconds later.

Reluctantly they both stood, walking slowly towards the back door with a justified measure of trepidation. Merlin limped slightly beside him, and Arthur tried not to let that fact worry him too much.   
   
"I'll go first," Arthur announced upon reaching their destination, and for once, Merlin didn’t put up a fight about it, which filled Arthur with a whole other sort of anxiety.  
   
Pushing on the door, Arthur stepped back, waiting, shielding Merlin with his body. A few moments passed without any sort of attack, and Arthur took this as a promising sign. Poking his head through the doorway, Arthur took in the area in more thorough detail. It appeared as if the door they’d just exited through led straight to a corridor. To the right there was a dead end -- nothing more than an incredibly high-set window on that wall that they would not be able to climb out of -- which meant that there was only one option as to where they could go next.

Arthur led the way, holding out his sword as he followed the hall. There was nothing on the walls, save for dirt, which left little indication of whether there was anyone -- or ever _had_ been anyone -- living here. The hallway twisted to the right at some point, and just when Arthur thought they must be nearing the end, it would twist once more. A feeling of anxiety settled in the pit of his stomach, twisting and turning uncomfortably the longer they walked, and Arthur didn’t like it at all. He turned back several times throughout the walk, tossing a glance over his shoulder just to ensure Merlin was still there, even though he stuck to Arthur like glue, to the point where Arthur could hear Merlin’s ragged breathing. All the same, it helped quell his nerves to know that Merlin was still right there with him.

Finally, after several tedious minutes of walking down the world’s longest corridor, they arrived at a flight of very steep stone stairs that seemed out of place in a building that wasn’t really all that tall to begin with. He gestured with a hand, signalling to Merlin that they were going to head upstairs.

The top landing opened up to another passage, wider than the one they’d just emerged from. Unlit candelabras hung on the walls between sets of doors -- two on either side of the hall -- that seemingly led to rooms. There was another high-set window on the far wall but no other way out.

“Well, this seems promising,” Merlin said.

Arthur frowned, forehead crinkling in annoyance. That was an understatement. The high priestess had to be here somewhere, and Arthur was determined to find her before something else found them.

“You could say that again. I guess we might as well see what’s behind door number one,” said Arthur, reaching for the handle of the door to their immediate right and pushing it open.

He wasn’t quite sure what he’d been expecting, but unlike last time there were no dangerous creatures lurking about, or any sign of anything, really. The room was empty, save for a large brown chest which sat in the upper left corner of the room, covered in a thick layer of dust and grime.

Arthur strolled over to the chest, sheathing his sword for the moment. There was no threat here that he could see. A soft click from behind indicated that Merlin had shut the door behind them, and Arthur wondered if that was the best plan, but didn’t bother commenting on it, seeing as how it was already closed, the damage already done.

“This place is disgusting,” he mused, swiping a single finger across the top of the chest. It emerged black, crushed layers of dust and filth coating the tip of his finger, and Arthur absently wiped the gunk off on his trousers.

Kneeling in front of the chest, Arthur started fiddling with what appeared to be a sophisticated, and entirely too complicated lock, attempting to determine the best way to open the darn thing. Perhaps if he stared at it long enough, with the superior stare of intimidation that usually snapped unruly knights to attention in a heartbeat, it would just open on its own.

“Do you know of any magic spells for opening locks?” Arthur asked, beginning to realise just how useful Merlin could potentially be in similarly frustrating situations.

A beat passed with no comment. “Merlin, have you suddenly gone deaf or something?”

The responding silence was uncharacteristic, and in the next moment it occurred to Arthur that he could no longer hear Merlin’s breathing. Something felt off again, like there was some sort of threat looming in the distance, and Arthur didn’t like the way his stomach coiled tightly. Whirling around, Arthur came face to face with nothing but empty space where Merlin should have been.

"Merlin?" Arthur blinked, scanning the small room for any sign of his lanky manservant, but he was nowhere to be seen.   
   
He headed back towards the door they'd just entered, and gave it a firm tug, but it didn't budge. "Merlin?" Arthur called again, placing both hands on the door handle and giving it a solid yank. He nearly fell back from the force, frustration building steadily. Arthur kicked at the bottom of the door in annoyance, his only reward a brief jolt of pain that shot up his right leg.  
   
Arthur pressed his ear to the solid wood and rapped on it with his knuckles. "Are you out there, Merlin?" he shouted, trying to project the sound as far as possible as he waited for a response. There was nothing.  
   
"Well, isn't this just bloody fantastic?" Arthur grumbled to himself as he stepped back from the door. It appeared as though he was stuck in this room, alone, and he didn't have a clue as to where Merlin was, or if he was all right.  
   
The window looking out the west side of the building was small, but large enough to squeeze through, in theory. Arthur went over to examine the situation. Bars prevented him from sticking a head outside to see if there was any ledge to climb on, but after a quick test, it became apparent that the bars framing the window were only still loosely attached, at best. After several minutes of exertion, coupled with a long string of expletives that probably weren't wholly necessary, Arthur gave one last shove, and the bars practically flew off the window, landing with a loud clatter on the ground below.  
   
He let out a whoop of success, before sobering.  
   
"Aren't you clever," he heard from behind, all of a sudden, causing him to nearly crack open the back of his skull on the top of the window in surprise.  
   
Arthur whipped around at the sound, eyes widening upon seeing Merlin, leaning casually in the doorway. There hadn't even been any sound to indicate that the door opened at all to begin with. All the same, Arthur felt relief wash over him at the sight of Merlin.  
   
"Thank the gods, where have you been? Didn't you hear me calling you?" Arthur asked. Merlin eyed him, but said nothing.  
   
Window completely forgotten for the moment, Arthur strolled back towards Merlin, already formulating a plan.

"Come on, let's go. There's nothing of use in this room," he announced, heading for the door.  
   
But he was prevented from walking through by an arm. Merlin's arm, to be specific. "What are you doing?" he asked, trying to push past him, but Merlin was surprisingly strong as he singlehandedly stopped Arthur from exiting the room. 

"Where are you going?" Merlin queried, voice even.  
   
"What do you mean? I told you there's nothing here. Stop messing around, Merlin. We have to find the high priestess."  
   
Arthur made another attempt to shove past Merlin, annoyance rising at his ridiculous antics. Maybe he'd hit his head harder than he was willing to admit during the wyvern attack. But this time Merlin placed a hand on his chest, touch icy and painful, and Arthur tried to jump back away from the sensation, confusing burning in his eyes, but he found he couldn't move.

In the next instant, Arthur felt himself being shoved back by an invisible force, pulling him until he hit the far wall. Shoving away from the wall, he quickly found that something was holding him in place -- nothing tangible, but a strong magical force that felt similar to chains, if he were able to see them. Merlin stepped fully into the room as the door slammed shut behind him with a loud thud. Everything about the situation felt off, like it was all wrong and he'd stepped into some alternate universe; except he was quite certain that he hadn't.  
   
"You need to stay here," Merlin said, voice cold and commanding as he strolled casually towards Arthur, still held in place by the invisible chains.  
   
"What the hell are you doing? We don't have time for games." Arthur felt himself getting more annoyed with every passing second.  
   
Merlin fell silent once more, staring hard at Arthur with no real purpose or intent that he could see. "You think this is a game?” he asked. “Maybe _you're_ the one who's mentally deficient."  
   
In spite of the little evidence he had to go on, he decided that this was definitely not Merlin, as much as it may have looked and sounded like him. "I'm not sure who you are, but I know you're not really Merlin. What the hell have you done with him?"  
   
The man chuckled mirthlessly, the sound chilling to Arthur’s ears. "I'm the real Merlin. There's no mistake about that."  
   
Arthur glared. "No, you're not. I know Merlin, and you're not him."  
   
"Oh, but I am," the man pretending to be Merlin drawled, voice seeping with sadistic pleasure as he took another step forward. "Do you need me to prove it? Fine, I will."

Without waiting for a comment, he began speaking again. "As a child you had two bloodhounds that you loved dearly. You cried for three days when one was accidentally killed in a hunting accident."

Arthur tried not to roll his eyes. "That's not exactly uncommon knowledge." It wasn't as if the entire kingdom was aware of the incident, but enough people had been involved in the whole situation -- Arthur's nursemaid at the time had even held a funeral for his lost companion -- that it wouldn't be hard to track down the story, if one so desired to know.

Merlin proceeded to tap his chin thoughtfully. "Fine. That clearly wasn’t satisfactory for you. Let's move onto something else then. You have a long, narrow scar on your lower back from getting into a fight as a teenager with the son of a visiting noble."

Once again, that little piece of evidence wasn’t overly convincing to Arthur, who was already certain that this wasn’t the Merlin he knew.

"That, too, isn't some deep, dark secret. Many people are aware of stories surrounding scars I have. I'm a prince, after all." Well, mostly only Arthur's father and a handful of nursemaids and servants were aware of the fact that he had a scar; even less knew _why_ , but it could just have easily been a lucky guess. It did nothing to sway Arthur’s opinion whatsoever.  
   
"Even the one on your inner left thigh, about four inches above your knee?"  
   
Arthur blinked, knowing exactly what scar he was referring to. It was a ridiculous incident, involving a blade, poor insight on Arthur's part, and Merlin's general incompetence; basically, a lesson on throwing daggers gone awry. Arthur'd figured that it might be easier to start Merlin off with some basic training with a smaller weapon instead of a broadsword, but clearly that'd been a poor decision. Arthur had raged, Merlin had freaked right out, there was a lot more blood than either had expected, and after a great deal of apologising and reassurances, everything had been fine. Needless to say, no one knew about that incident save for Merlin, Arthur and Gaius, whose assistance they'd required with helping to properly bandage the wound.  
   
"I take it your silence is causing you to have second thoughts?" Merlin crowed at him, smirking devilishly.  
   
Arthur shook his head, keeping his expression neutral. It was entirely possible Gaius had told someone about the incident. "Not at all. I know Merlin, and you're not him, so why don't you just tell me what you want?"  
   
The smirk grew tenfold. Merlin folded his arms, looking amused. "I want _you_ ," he said, stare heavy and intense, but voice twisted... malicious, almost. "I thought that was obvious the other day when I clung to you, after we both came in the forest. You begged me to never leave you, don't you remember?"  
   
Arthur felt himself pale, stomach churning just a little. This time it was painfully obvious that no one else knew about that particular moment between them, and in spite of still being fairly convinced that the man standing before him was an imposter or some magical incarnation of Merlin, he couldn’t quite quash the tiny bit of doubt that wormed its way into his head anyway.

Merlin watched him expectantly, but Arthur refused to allow anything to show in his face. “Did you think I didn’t know what was going on back in the dungeons, when you asked me to read that piece of paper? Did you honestly think I was so stupid that I didn’t know what you were doing?”

Arthur kept quiet, pushing against the forces holding him in place, but they were still working exactly how they were supposed to, and he was barely able to do more than move an inch or two away from the wall at his back.

Merlin carried on, apparently taking the silence as an indication to keep speaking. “Have you ever wondered why I didn’t ever tell you about my magic? Why I’ve helped you all this time? Did you think it was because I was trying to protect you?” He laughed, the sound cold and humourless. “I knew I had to make sure you were alive to ascend to the throne, and bonding our souls was so brilliant I’m surprised I didn’t think of it myself.”

A true scowl cropped up on Arthur’s face, brows furrowing. “That doesn’t even make any sense.”

“Doesn’t it, though?” Merlin walked up to Arthur, placing a cold hand against his chest. Arthur tried to pull away from the touch, but he had nowhere to retreat to. “I spent all this time using my magic to keep you alive. I managed to earn your friendship and your trust and I protected you so that if you ever found out about my abilities, you would realise that all I’d ever done was try and help you. I knew you would forgive me and trust me again, because you have a weakness for me.”

Arthur swallowed heavily, fighting down the urge to recoil as Merlin dragged a single finger down his chest and stomach, stopping at the waistband of his trousers. He was also pointedly ignoring the fact that this version of Merlin was correct about one thing -- he was beginning to realise that it was quite clear that Arthur _did_ have a weakness for Merlin, and perhaps that would one day become his downfall, if he wasn’t careful. Their current predicament notwithstanding.

“And now that I’ve won not only your friendship and trust, but your heart as well, you are completely helpless against me, Arthur Pendragon.”

Merlin’s hand moved up to his chest once more, and then, he started pushing, digging into the flesh around his rib cage. Arthur gasped as the cold mixed with a sudden, searing pain, and he watched with a sense of abject horror as Merlin began to push his fingers _into_ Arthur’s chest. He felt the tear of skin, the crushing of bones, breath stilting in his throat as he tried to gasp, but couldn’t seem to find the ability to do so over the white hot burn in his chest. Sweat beaded on his forehead, hair matting to the damp surface. It was some of the most excruciating pain he’d ever been subjected to before in his life, agony intensifying only with the knowledge that it was Merlin -- or someone masquerading as Merlin -- causing him to suffer like this.

“Aren’t you going to do something?” Merlin taunted, pressing his hand further into Arthur’s chest until he felt like he was going to explode from the pain and the pressure.

But he shook his head, closing his eyes briefly against another wave of nausea. “No.”

“Why not?” Merlin growled into his ear. “Are you too afraid? What’s the worst that could happen? You don’t think I’m really Merlin anyway, so if you attack me it’s not as if you’re hurting your real lover, is it?”

The voice continued to taunt him, though he could barely hear through the searing pain. He wouldn’t hurt Merlin, didn’t think it was even possible for him to do so -- not under any circumstances -- even if Merlin shattered his heart entirely, plucking it piece by piece from his chest.

“Unless you finally believe me and know that I’m exactly who I say I am and can’t bring yourself to hurt me anyway, even though I betrayed you. Again. I always knew you were weak, Arthur, but this is pathetic, even for you,” Merlin practically spat, twisting his fingers inside Arthur’s chest, causing him to lurch violently from the agony for a moment before it subsided enough for him to be able to breathe again. “Come on, I’ll even give you a fair chance here,” he said.

Merlin wrenched his hand out of Arthur’s body, stained crimson with his blood, and the pain was almost as paralysing as when he’d first pushed fingers through Arthur’s chest. The few threads of logic that still weaved through Arthur’s mind told him that he shouldn’t even be alive, that these injuries should have been fatal. No one could sustain an open wound to the chest like this and still be able to breath... to move. How Arthur was even conscious at all was a mystery, and he was certain there had to be an explanation somewhere. However, he couldn’t reason past the pain, and then, without warning, the magical chains suddenly disappeared.

“Get up,” Merlin commanded. “You’re not dead yet. You have a chance to even the score here.”

Using the last reserves of strength he had left, reserves that should’ve been non-existent by all logic, Arthur pushed himself up into a seated position, only faintly aware of the blood soaking his tunic and the ground. “I am not fighting you,” he managed to grind out, before his world started spinning again.

“Not even if I gave you the means to get rid of me for good?”

And suddenly a small dagger appeared on the ground at Arthur’s feet. Merlin walked up to him, kneeling down between his legs, and he picked up the dagger, placing it into Arthur’s right hand, curling fingers around Arthur’s until he had a strong enough grasp not to drop it.

“You’re a coward,” Merlin taunted, wicked smirk plastered on his face so much so that it barely even resembled the man Arthur knew.

Arthur glanced down at the dagger in his hand.

“Your father was right -- you _are_ weak. You would be an embarrassment to Camelot as a king.”

Arthur’s hand tightened momentarily around the hilt.

“Your mother is dead because of you, and your father hates you for it; he always will. Every time he looks at you he wishes he had your mother instead.”

Fingers twitched, and somewhere between the haze of the pain and anger, the idea that he could do this and end the misery slipped into Arthur’s mind.

Merlin continued his string of mockery. “I hope you understand how much I despise you, in case there was any doubt. I’ve never met a more self-centered, arrogant, weak, cowardly person in my life. Even in Ealdor I could find men with more honour than you have in your little finger.”

Arthur peered up at Merlin’s snarling face, suddenly filled with the desire to use the dagger like he’d been suggesting, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to hurt Merlin, regardless of the situation.

“Do it,” Merlin practically screamed at him, throwing arms out to the side in a sacrificial pose. “I know you want to; you’re _dying_ to kill me.”

Arthur coughed, a thin trail of blood dripping from the corner of his lip. Even though it was what Merlin wanted, he still couldn’t do it. Perhaps it _was_ true, that he was a coward who was completely helpless for Melrin. This was a terrible way to go, but Arthur didn’t see any other options. So he let his hand loosen, and the dagger fell to the ground with a clank.

“I won’t,” he finally managed to spit out just before his world faded to black.

* * *

Arthur awoke to the feeling of someone prodding and poking him, a frantic voice chattering at him, even though he couldn’t make out the words.

He rolled onto his back, mostly involuntarily, and when his vision finally cleared, he was able to make out the face of Merlin, staring down at him in worry.

Without even really processing what he was doing, Arthur jumped up, and scrambled back towards the wall, putting distance between himself and Merlin, not knowing if this was the real one, or the one who’d just tried to kill him.

“Arthur...?” Merlin asked, eyes concerned and expression unable to hide the hurt.

“Stay away,” Arthur said, holding out a hand as he struggled to clear his head and make sense of what was going on.

“Arthur, it’s me. Don’t worry,” Merlin said, trying to reassure Arthur as he took a single step forward.

“How do I know that?” Arthur demanded, coming across far more harshly than he’d intended.

Something in Merlin’s eyes flickered briefly, like sadness, but Arthur staunchly chose to ignore it. “Because I just had the same thing happen to me as you did.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I was just attacked by you. Or, er, someone who looked like you. But I knew it wasn’t. You, I mean.” He took another cautious step forward, and Arthur felt his heart skip involuntarily, even as his brain registered that this was a possible scenario.

“You don’t look like you were attacked,” he said, gesturing towards Merlin, who appeared to be in perfect physical condition. Or as perfect as he was prior to their separation, anyway.

“This was how I looked when I woke up, but trust me when I say it was not good.”

“How would your injuries just suddenly heal like that?”

Merlin shrugged, glancing down at his feet before casting eyes upon Arthur once again. “I don’t know. In the same way that yours did?”

Arthur frowned, confused all of a sudden. “What are you talking about? Can’t you see all the blo--” He trailed off mid-sentence as he looked down at himself, and was struck with the fact that he appeared just as healthy as Merlin did. No blood, no gaping wound, no nothing.

“What the hell happened?” he wondered, talking as much to himself as he was to Merlin.

Merlin took the last couple of steps to reach Arthur, and he knelt down on the floor in front of Arthur. “I’m not entirely sure, but I heard you tell me to check out the room across the hall, so I did. And then when I was about to leave, you came in and attacked me.” He bit his lip. “Well, not you, but someone like you.”

Arthur nodded, a pained expression briefly appearing on Merlin’s face before he hurried to hide it, though not before Arthur noticed. He suspected that Merlin’s false Arthur had probably said some very hurtful things to him.

“The injuries should have killed me, I think. But obviously they didn’t, since we’re both still here. Maybe they were all a dream or a vision or something? Definitely magical, at the very least,” Merlin continued on.

Arthur blinked. “If it was a dream, it was the most realistic I’ve ever had.” He drifted back into memories, unable to entirely erase them.

“I would never hurt you. I’d never, ever hurt you Arthur,” Merlin said, drawing Arthur out of his own mind as Merlin leaned in to press a kiss to Arthur’s forehead. “I promise it’s the real me.” And then he moved forward again, planting a soft kiss on Arthur’s mouth, lips warm and gentle and loving.

When they pulled apart, Arthur captured Merlin’s face in both hands, studying his eyes, looking for any evidence that he was being taken advantage of. But there was none of the hatred and cruelty that’d been present in the fake Merlin’s eyes; there was nothing but concern and affection and unwavering trust in these beautiful eyes, and he knew for good that this was Merlin, _his_ Merlin.

“I know,” he breathed, pulling him close, arms wrapping around Merlin for just a moment. “I’m sorry. I just needed to be sure.”

“It’s all right,” Merlin said. “I know you did. Do you think you can get up?”

Arthur thought about it for a second, didn’t feel any of his earlier pain, and nodded, accepting Merlin’s extended hand as he helped pull him up off the floor.

“We stick together from now on,” Arthur said, and reached out to take Merlin’s right hand in his left. “Don’t let go under any circumstances,” he instructed, threading their fingers together.

“I won’t,” Merlin promised, and they made their way out of the room to see what else they had to face.

* * *

It was not all that surprising when Arthur and Merlin exited the room, only to find that the staircase they’d originally ascended had completely vanished. In its place was a blank wall, dirty and worn, as if it’d always been there. However, at the other end of the hall there was now a new stone pathway that extended upwards.

“I guess this leads us to our next disaster,” Arthur said, pointing to the newly revealed staircase. “Wherever that might be. You ready?”

Merlin nodded, appearing far more certain than Arthur felt, and he withdrew the sword once again, just in case, leading the way.

At the top of the stairs, there was a small landing and a single wooden door.

“What do you think is behind the door?” Merlin asked.

Arthur shrugged, tossing an encouraging look in Merlin’s direction, despite the fact that he felt anything but encouraged at the moment. “I have no idea, but I’m praying that it isn’t any crazed magical creatures or another set of doubles. Or anything else dangerous, for that matter.”

Merlin’s expression was nothing short of dubious. “And, um, what do you think the likelihood of there being nothing whatsoever is?”

“Probably slim to none.”

A sigh. “I thought so.”

“Cheer up, Merlin. We’ve made it this far already. It can’t get much worse than that, right?” He smiled in spite of himself, already regretting the statement he’d just made, and dreading what they were going to find on the other side of this door. He sobered quickly, and using his sword, Arthur carefully gestured towards Merlin’s free hand. “You’re going to need to open the door for us, though,” he added. “I’m not letting go of your hand _or_ my sword.”

Merlin reached out and grabbed onto the latch, opening the door slightly before stepping back. Using his foot, Arthur lightly kicked the door open. They waited with bated breath, hoping against hope that nothing would spring out and attack them, and thankfully, nothing did.

After a few moments, Arthur made his way cautiously into the room, Merlin at his heels.

“Congratulations,” a female voice announced, though Arthur couldn’t see anyone. His left hand continued to grip Merlin’s firmly, right hand still holding out his sword as Arthur’s gaze quickly swept the room.

“You have passed the trials,” the voice continued. It seemed to be originating from the furthest wall from where they stood. Instinctively, Arthur pulled Merlin behind him, even though it was painfully obvious that he was more than capable of taking care of himself.

“Show yourself,” Arthur said, swinging the sword slowly back and forth through the air in front of them.

“I mean you no harm,” the woman said, and suddenly he could see her, standing behind a large oak table at the back of the room, though he had no idea how she’d managed to get there without Arthur noticing in the first place. “You should be proud of yourselves.”

“We’ve what?” Arthur asked, only now actually beginning to process the meaning of her words.

She smiled at them, warm, sincere. “You’ve passed the trials. Please, come closer.” She gestured with her hands for them to move towards where she stood.

Arthur shot Merlin a questioning look, but he simply shrugged in response. It appeared as though they were no longer in danger, though Arthur couldn’t help but remain somewhat distrustful regardless. However, the reality was that they had nowhere else to go anyway, no way out that they’d seen. Besides, they _were_ here to meet with the high priestess in the first place. So he gave Merlin’s hand a tug, deciding for them both, leading him hesitantly forward as they approached the woman standing several feet away with no small amount of trepidation. But something in the air felt less perilous, and Arthur allowed his sword to lower to the ground, though he refused to sheath it, as a precautionary measure.

She was fairly tall, with dark eyes, olive skin and a solid frame. Long, silver curls framed her face, which appeared to be both youthful and aged at the same time. She wore a long, sleeveless sky blue dress that appeared to shine, even in the absence of natural lighting. Her expression was warm and welcoming, but Arthur sensed a great power emanating from her person, and knew instinctively that she could just as easily turn against them if enraged. It wasn’t hard, from that point, to make the leap that this was the high priestess they’d been seeking.

Suddenly her words clicked in Arthur’s mind. “What do you mean, we’ve passed the trials?” he asked. Beside him, Merlin shifted, moving to stand in line with Arthur. “We haven’t done anything.”

She smiled at them, a cryptic gleam in her eyes. “Haven’t you, though?”

Arthur frowned, having absolutely no clue what she was talking about. Apparently Merlin felt the same way. “I don’t understand,” he said.

“What do you think you just did?”

Multiple thoughts immediately sprang to mind -- attacked a slew of wyverns, barely escaping with their lives; wandered through the veritable mazes of this tower; and battled false versions of one another -- but somehow he didn’t quite think that she would appreciate any of those answers.

Without waiting for a response, she started walking around the table, heading in their direction. “Tell me, what is your business here?” she asked, completely side stepping her previous question.

Arthur caught Merlin’s eye, raising a brow in silent query. _You can tell her_ , he replied through their mental connection, and Arthur nodded. But he wasn’t oblivious to the slight hint of sadness Merlin hadn’t quite been able to mask.

“We are seeking the high priestess to undo a soul bond,” he said, ignoring the way his stomach churned at the words. He found, quite cowardly, that he couldn’t look at Merlin.

The woman stopped approximately six feet away, folding her hands, studying them both for a moment before nodding, satisfied. “I am the high priestess you seek.” Arthur didn’t know if he should feel relieved or disappointed, but she carried on before he had a chance to respond. “You say that you’re here to break a soul bond, but I see that your particular bond is quite unique.”

“Unique? What do you mean?” Merlin asked, shooting Arthur a curious glance before returning his attention to the high priestess.

“The trials,” she said, holding out one palm as if that explained anything.

The confusion must have been plastered plainly across their faces, as she heaved a disappointed sigh and shook her head, lowering the raised hand back to her side. “The trials you just completed assess three main components: strength of power, strength of character, and strength of bond. The creatures that attacked you when you first arrived are called wyverns. They are not something that can be defeated alone. This was the test of the strength of your power. Your strength of character and bond were tested when you were separated and confronted with your worst nightmares of one another. Even though they were merely manifestations, if either of you had risen to the bait, you would have failed. Your bond was also tested during the wyvern fight. You were required to work together and efficiently, something that would not have been possible without a strong bond to carry you through.”

She paused, eyeing Merlin, then Arthur, pointing a finger at each of them in turn. “While you both possess vastly different styles of combat, the strength of your individual powers is significant, and when combined, truly staggering. This can be either a blessing or a curse, depending on how you use your powers. Which is why the strength of your character is significant.”

The woman tilted her head, focusing her attention on Merlin, and she nodded in his direction. “You are impulsive and often act before you’ve entirely thought through the consequences. But you are fiercely loyal and dedicated to those who are important to you. Your heart is pure, and filled with love and compassion. You do not always make the wisest decisions, but most everything you do comes from the right place. You would willingly sacrifice yourself for family or a close friend without hesitation, even risking your life for a stranger, if you felt strongly enough about the situation.”

Arthur glanced over at Merlin, curious to see his reaction to her words. Merlin gazed over at her curiously, a light flush tinting his cheeks pink. He seemed both flattered and embarrassed at the same time, and the sight of it stirred something warm in Arthur’s gut.

She turned her attention to Arthur next, and captured his gaze. It felt as though she was peering right into his soul, eyes searching and intense, and he simultaneously wanted to break the contact while wishing it would never end. “You are guarded, often keeping your true self from others, as a great deal of responsibility lies on your shoulders. Sometimes you make the wrong decisions, but your heart is ruled by fairness and compassion. You will not stand around and allow injustices to occur, and are willing to fight for what you believe in. There are many who pledge their allegiance to you, but there are those to whom your loyalty is pure and unwavering. You, too, possess a character of great strength.”

She smiled at him, lips quirking softly, and gave them both an expectant look, as if she was expecting something from them in return.

“Thank you,” Arthur told her sincerely. But that still didn’t explain anything about their soul bond, or how it somehow made it unique. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m still not quite certain what this has to do with our bond.”

She laughed, light and airy, as if the thought was utterly amusing. “Have a seat,” she told them, sweeping a hand out in front of her.

Arthur’s eyebrows shot up. There were no chairs in the room at all. But then he felt a tug on his arm and turned around to see two chairs a few feet back. It was as if they’d sprung up like magic, which was actually probably exactly what had happened. He shot Merlin a dubious look but sat down anyway, extricating his hand from Merlin’s, having completely forgotten he was still holding it at all. He missed the contact immediately.

The high priestess snapped her fingers and another chair materialized before their eyes, sat a few feet in front of the table to the rear, elevated above theirs. She perched on the edge of the chair, staring down at them, and Arthur could feel the power radiating from her once more.

“I sense you have many questions for me. But first, let me tell you a few things about soul bonds. A successful soul bond is a rarity, like a highly valued gem. Most attempts at bonding two souls usually fail, not because of the complexity of the spell, but because of the connection -- or lack of connection, as if often the case -- between the two individuals attempting the bond.”

Merlin’s fingers brushed against the back of Arthur’s hand as it rested against the armrest of the chair, and he turned to glance at Merlin, who stared back at him. _That explains a lot, don’t you think?_ he asked silently, and Arthur nodded in response.

She gave them a knowing look before carrying on, and it caused a blush to rise up Arthur’s face, preposterous as he knew the reaction was. “A soul bond can only be successfully formed between two people who already have a very close connection, often occurring between family members, close friends, or lovers.” The blush spread all the way to the tips of Arthur’s ears, but he steadfastly ignored it, keeping curious eyes locked on the high priestess.  
   
"Most successful bonds are able to elicit certain special abilities, unique to the soul bond, as a consequence of the magic that was used to create them. Some of the most common abilities include being able to communicate using only the power of your mind, sensing each other's feelings and emotions, even at a great distance, and having the power to affect each other’s emotions," she said. "Then, of course, there are the other elements of the soul bond, which can be troublesome. Separation of a great physical distance can cause weakness, mental anguish, and sickness that can sometimes lead to a physical shutting down of the body until the bond is re-established. In rare cases, if the distance separated is too great for an extended period of time, the consequence can be death. But this is only the case in new, or untrained soul bonds."  
   
Something lit at the back of Arthur's mind, like a mental torch being set aflame. "Wait, what do you mean 'untrained soul bonds'? Are you saying that we're able to control aspects of the bond?" he asked, leaning forward, curious.  
   
The high priestess nodded at him, folding her hands in her lap elegantly. "Yes, to an extent. When new bonds are formed, even strong ones, the bonded still need time to grow into and adjust to them. Their newfound connection needs to be fostered and practiced in order to see it fully blossom. For example, newly bonded individuals cannot be separated by long distances for great periods of time, or they are both affected physically and mentally.”

Arthur shot Merlin a knowing look before returning his attention to the high priestess.

“However, if they start off slowly, separating for short periods of time and short distances, over time they can increase the distance and length of time spent apart without any negative impact.”

This was intriguing information, and Arthur suddenly wanted to know more, entirely ignoring the fact that this wouldn’t be relevant to them soon anyway. “So are there other things we could do, in theory, to train our bond?” he asked.

The high priestess shot him a curious look, eyeing him suspiciously, but she carried on. “Of course. A bond can be trained in any number of ways, if the right attention is paid to it. The more the bonded utilise their mental connection, for example, the less physical strain it will cause them, until eventually it is no longer difficult at all.”

Arthur nodded, absorbing the information, all the while pondering deeply what other sorts of ways there were for them to train and develop this bond. Maybe... Perhaps it was possible that they didn’t have to... But no, Arthur knew it was foolish to allow his mind to even travel down that path seriously and mentally scolded himself for the same.

Still, he couldn’t quite stop himself from asking the question anyway. “I know that the bond can cause death, right? But in theory, could it also not _prevent_ it in the same way?”

Brows arched high on the priestess’ forehead, and Arthur could feel Merlin’s gaze piercing the side of his face. Her eyes developed a mischievous glint and she folded her hands in her lap. “Now, that is an interesting question, Arthur Pendragon. To my knowledge it has never been successfully done before. But that doesn’t mean that it’s impossible, especially with a bond as strong as yours.”

Silence descended on the room with the significance of those words suddenly weighing heavily on Arthur’s heart. Numerous thoughts immediately popped into his head, demanding attention and filling him with an unidentified feeling of hope all of a sudden, but Arthur didn't know where to begin exactly. There was a part of him that wanted to pursue this line of questioning further and another part that felt like he knew enough already. In the end, Merlin made the decision unwittingly for him.

"So what makes our particular bond so special?" Merlin piped in, breaking the silence, effectively moving the conversation in a different direction.  
   
She smiled at them with a twinkle in her eye, as if she'd been eagerly awaiting the opportunity to answer this particular question.  
   
"Because when you were bonded," she pointed at each of them in turn, "you had a connection as intense as that of lovers."  
   
Arthur opened his mouth to protest that they weren't lovers at the time -- not because he was embarrassed, but because he felt obligated to defend both of their honour -- however, she held up a hand, and Arthur bit his tongue to allow her to speak instead. "I know that you were not then," she said, as if reading his mind, "but you are now. The closest and most effective bonds are between lovers, followed closely by immediate relatives, and then friends. The significant factor about a bond between lovers is that there is a physical as well as a mental and emotional connection between them, which does not exist with the other two types of bonds.”  
   
He wasn't surprised to hear that, and in fact believed it made perfect sense that lovers would have the strongest bond. But there was something else Arthur desperately had to know. It wasn't that he believed it was true, but at the same time, he needed to hear the truth, so that he wouldn't ever doubt in the future. "You said earlier that one of the resulting aspects of the bond is the ability to feel each other's emotions and feelings. But the bond... it can't _create_ thoughts, or emotions, or other things along those lines, correct? For example, it won't make you suddenly change your feelings or opinions about a person?"  
   
Arthur tried not to look up at Merlin, hoped that he wouldn't take offense to the question. He cared deeply for Merlin -- had for a long time, if he were being completely honest with himself -- of that he was absolutely certain now. But if there was even the smallest chance that any of the feelings he currently harboured for the man had been a result of the bond, it was important that he knew.

A soft laugh escaped past her lips, bubbling out of her with sheer amusement, and Arthur’s brows shot immediately up his forehead at her response. Shaking her head, she smiled down at him. “No,” she responded simply. “A soul bond never creates something from nothing. It merely brings to the surface what is already there in your heart. In some ways it is like a gift to those who may deny or are not as in touch with their feelings.”

Arthur felt himself blush again, feeling as if she was speaking directly to him with that last statement, and perhaps she was.


	10. Chapter 10

** This Dark Road Will Lead Us Where We Want to Be -- Part Ten **

“So, tell me, you with this unique and powerful soul bond, why are you seeking to have the bond removed?”

Merlin caught his gaze, looking as uncertain as Arthur felt. In a lot of ways, after hearing about everything their soul bond actually entailed, it was a really valid question. “It’s sort of complicated,” Arthur eventually told her.

“Complicated, how? You are together sexually, are you not?”

Merlin gasped at the question, Arthur continued to pretend that he was not at all embarrassed by any of this. “Yes, but it’s not that--“

“I sense a great deal of affection between you two; the trials demonstrated a deep love that you have for one another.”

Merlin squawked, and Arthur decided that he was no help whatsoever in this whole thing. “Of course I care about him,” -- it was all Arthur was willing to admit just yet -- “but there’s more to it than that.”

She held up a hand, requesting his silence, and he gave it to her, wondering what she was going to say now. Tapping her chin thoughtfully she said directly to Arthur, “You are Arthur Pendragon, son of Uther Pendragon, king of Camelot.” Turning to Merlin she continued, “And you are Merlin Emrys, son of Balinor, mighty Dragonlord and an enemy of Uther Pendragon. Your union was the result of a deep bond that already existed between you, which you used to prevent Merlin’s death. Now you seek to break the bond so that neither of your lives will be at risk when you return to Camelot, even though the threat has not subsided for either of you.”

Arthur frowned slightly, wondering how she'd even come into possession of that knowledge. However, when put like that, breaking their bond didn’t seem so wise of a decision after all.

“Do you still desire to break your bond?” she asked, looking at each one in turn, and Arthur hesitated.

Merlin was the one to speak first, however. “Are there consequences for breaking a soul bond?” he asked, and Arthur was immensely grateful for the question.

The high priestess nodded thoughtfully. “Yes. As your bond is still new, it wouldn’t be as risky as attempting to break a bond that was old, but there are still potential complications that arise.”

“What are those?” Arthur asked.  
   
"Whenever the bonded break their connection, one of the side effects most experienced is sadness, whether it's as minor as feeling down for a few days, to experiencing a lengthy depression. The impact always depends on the strength of the bond, as well as the length of time the individuals have been bonded. Another common side effect is the loss of appetite and the loss of sleep, which can range from days to weeks in length. The most difficult consequence of breaking a bond isn't as common as the others, but it is undeniably the most distressing of them all if experienced."  
   
There was a momentary break, and Arthur felt as if he was literally on the edge of his seat. "What is it?" he breathed, eager to know the full extent of the side effects.  
   
She seemed attuned to his eagerness, but still took her time with responding. “Sometimes when a bond is split, the individuals go through a withdrawal from the other person, as the feelings and emotions that had previously fused together are torn apart. Emotionally, their bodies will still crave the connection they once had, but when they are unable to find it, it can cause a great deal of psychological distress, sometimes even trauma. Additionally, the bonded individuals will never be able to restore the same level of intimacy that they experienced while bonded, and sometimes not even the closeness they experienced prior to the bond. Again, it can last anywhere from a couple of days to several years. Symptoms are heightened by the traditional means, as well as the degree to which they desire to actually sever the bond.”

She paused for several moments, allowing the reality of her words to sink in. Arthur had been hesitant to break the bond with Merlin right from the beginning, only embarking on the mission at all as a way to once again try and save Merlin’s life. But he didn’t like the idea of going through withdrawals from him. And worse, from never experiencing the same level of connectedness as they felt now. The thought stabbed at his heart, and he could feel the same radiating from Merlin as well.

“So, are you ready to go through with the ceremony?” she finally asked them.  
   
Arthur could feel Merlin staring at him, expecting him to be the one to respond to this, and really, it made sense. Arthur had been the one who'd bonded them in the first place, then dragged Merlin on this excursion to sever the connection, so he should logically be the one to make the final call. Except that every time he thought about saying 'yes', his brain shouted _no!_ right back with greater intensity. The ability to make important decisions in a timely manner was one of many skills required of a great king. Years worth of Uther drilling the sentiment that 'he who hesitates, loses' came back to him in a rush, and yet, his earlier reluctance still loomed heavily, rendering Arthur just short of paralysed.  
   
He knew only a few things for certain. The first was that remaining bonded to Merlin was incredibly risky, in spite of the fact that they could potentially train their bond, no matter what they did after leaving this place. As it stood, if Arthur died, so would Merlin, and vice versa. And with Merlin's fondness for jumping into the line of fire for Arthur at every possible turn, the risk increased exponentially. The second thing he knew was that he had a responsibility to the people of Camelot, as their future king. At the same time, he also had a responsibility to Merlin, to watch out for and protect him. Not only as a citizen of Camelot, but as a friend... and as Arthur’s partner. The final thing Arthur could be certain of, even if he’d only just reached this conclusion with certainty, was that if he were to be completely honest with himself, he _didn’t_ want to break their bond. Which was not to say that Arthur hadn't been thinking this all along, but something about the high priestesses words finally sealed the decision in his mind, pushing out the last remnants of lingering doubt that said keeping the bond would be a mistake.  
   
The high priestess eyed him expectantly. "Well?"  
   
She waited. Merlin remained uncharacteristically silent. Arthur floundered as he continued to wage an internal war within his mind over what to do, in spite of what he knew he now _wanted_.

Finally Merlin's fingers curled gently around Arthur's wrist, tugging lightly on his arm. "Arthur, can I talk to you for a second?" he asked, voice barely more than a whisper, but still loud enough for the high priestess to hear.  
   
Arthur nodded blankly, and allowed himself to be pulled off to the side of the room.  
   
"What's going on?" he asked, crowding into Arthur's personal space as he moved to stand between Arthur and the priestess. "Is there some reason why you don't want to break the soul bond?"  
   
Arthur briefly considered feigning ignorance, but he knew that much as he loved to antagonise Merlin, he actually wasn't _quite_  that thick. "I don't know," Arthur admitted.  
   
"You don't know what's going on, or you don't know if there's a reason why you don't want to break the bond?"  
   
"Both." Arthur sighed and dug fingers into his hair. "Both," he repeated.  
   
Merlin peered at him curiously, confusion written plainly across his face. "I don't understand. I thought this was what you wanted, why we went on this journey in the first place."  
   
"You really thought this was what I wanted?" Arthur attempted to keep the incredulous tone from his voice, but wasn't sure if he succeeded or not.  
   
Merlin quirked his shoulders. "I don't know. Maybe. There were a couple of times when I thought maybe you didn't, but you never said one way or the other, so I just assumed... Are you saying that I was wrong?"  
   
"No, you weren't." Arthur stopped at the hurt look that briefly passed over Merlin's features, wanting to immediately erase it. "Well, not initially anyway. To be honest, my only real concern at the beginning was preventing your death and getting you as far away from Camelot as possible. I spent a lot of time not thinking too much about what we were doing, and then there were other things that arose..." He waved a hand around aimlessly, not having a specific reference in mind but content with allowing Merlin to take his pick. "And even though I knew what we were doing, I never actually _thought_ about it. Not really.”

Arms folded across his chest as Merlin continued to study Arthur intently. “So now that you’ve had a bit of time to think about it?” he prodded gently.

Now that he was faced directly with the reality of the decision, it wasn’t a difficult answer after all. Arthur _didn’t_ want to break their bond, in spite of the numerous and logical reasons as to why they should. There was a tiny part of him that suspected he’d known this truth all along but hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge it.

“Merlin, there are about fifty reasons why not breaking our soul bond is an absolutely terrible idea,” he said, entirely ignoring Merlin’s question while still answering it in a different way.

“Mmm yeah, you’re right,” Merlin agreed, nodding knowingly. “But what do _you_ want to do?”

“This isn’t my decision alone to make,” Arthur said, sidestepping the question once more.

Merlin shook his head. “No, it’s not. But I want to know what you think.”

“What about you?”

“You first.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Merlin, this is not the time for games.”

“I know that,” he scoffed. A moment later, Merlin reached out to clasp onto Arthur’s left arm, squeezing just above the elbow. “But I need to know what you want to do first.”

Arthur’s gaze dropped to the hand on his arm, but he said nothing.

“Why is it so hard for you to just admit it?” Merlin asked in that typically knowing tone that seemed to be exclusively reserved for Arthur. It was thoroughly frustrating, even after two years of enduring it.

“It’s not,” he protested, even though it apparently was.

“Then tell me what you want to do about the soul bond.” He squeezed again, firmer this time, and for some reason, Arthur felt his hesitation wane.

“Fine. I don’t want to break our bond. Is that what you want to hear?” Arthur asked, pointedly avoiding Merlin’s gaze.

There was a long pause, and then, “Yes. Because I don’t want to break our bond either.”

Arthur’s head snapped up, eyes seeking Merlin’s. “Really?”

Merlin nodded once, slowly. “Of course.”

“This is a bad idea, you know.”

“I know.”

The high priestess coughed, and they both turned to stare at her. She smiled over at them, but there was an element of impatience in her expression. “Have you made your decision?”

Arthur stepped forward, tugging Merlin along with him. “We have,” he said.

Arthur glanced quickly over at Merlin before returning his attention to the priestess. “We’ve decided not to go through with it,” he told her with confidence.

She didn’t appear the least bit surprised. “As you wish. I hope you’re able to figure things out.” The woman gestured towards the door. “As you are unable to leave here the way you arrived, I will transport you back to the front entrance. Take care, and remember that if you do change your mind, I will be here.” They nodded simultaneously.

And with the snap of her fingers, Merlin and Arthur were transported out of the tower and back to their horses.

* * *

Silence stretched between them for a long time after exiting the high priestess’ tower, confusion and uncertainty hanging in the air like a secret that everyone knew about but didn’t want to acknowledge. There was no longer any sense of urgency; they mounted the horses that’d been tied to a tree just outside of the building and set off, going no faster than a sluggish trot. Every once in a while, Arthur could feel Merlin staring at him, but the instant Arthur turned to meet his gaze, Merlin glanced away again.

“Arthur, what are we going to do?” Merlin finally asked, nearly half an hour later, giving voice to the question that weighed heavily on both of their minds.

In truth, Arthur had no idea what to do, now that they’d decided to keep their bond. He hadn’t exactly thought that far in advance. All he knew for certain was that the thought of breaking the bond had been too much, especially with the knowledge of the ways they could grow into it, and the potential consequences of breaking the strong connection they had. It wasn’t worth the risk.

He sighed, casting Merlin a sidelong glance. “Honestly, Merlin, I don’t know,” he admitted. So they continued to ride, the sounds of birds and hooves crunching the leaves beneath their feet the only noise for quite some time.

* * *

Later that evening, just following an early dinner that neither ate much of, Arthur declared that there was a small river nearby and it would be wise for both to bathe.

He stripped quickly, sinking into the edge of the surprisingly warm river, submerging himself up to his neck as he felt some of the tension drain away from his tight muscles.

“Hurry up, Merlin,” he called out, gesturing lazily towards his manservant, who stood at the edge of the embankment, still wearing his trousers.

“Yes, I’m coming,” Merlin grumbled, staring intently at something on the other side of the stream but making no move to actually do anything.

“I know I’m beautiful and therefore an incredible distraction, but you might want to get in here before we have no sun left to dry us,” Arthur said with a smirk.

It seemed to be enough to pull Merlin out of his daze, however, and he finished undressing quickly, tossing his clothes into a pile beside Arthur’s and carefully lowering himself into the water.

Arthur stood up, the water level coming to rest just above his stomach, and he trudged through the stream until he was standing directly across from Merlin. “Are you all right?” he asked, reaching out to grab Merlin’s hand under the water.

Merlin nodded. “I am. I just wish I knew what we were going to do.” He bit his lip and gazed down at the water, at their joined hands, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth.

It was obviously weighing as heavily on Merlin’s mind as it was on Arthur’s. He’d thought about nothing else since leaving the high priestess, and had reached a few conclusions of his own. Still grasping onto Merlin’s hand, Arthur tugged him down, until they were both submerged in the water up until their necks.

“As far as I see it, we really only have three options.”

“Which are?”

One hand emerged from the water so Arthur could demonstrate each point as it was made. “One, we both go back to Camelot.” He held up a second finger. “Two, I go back to Camelot and you stay away until it’s safe for you to return.” Merlin looked as though he was about to protest, and Arthur shook his head at him, raising the third finger of his hand instead. “And three, neither of us return to Camelot.”

“But Arthur, you can’t just--“

That same hand interrupted Merlin’s protests, clamping down on his mouth and muffling all attempts at speech. “Just be quiet for a second,” Arthur instructed. “I’m not done speaking yet.”

He waited several moments, until it looked as if Merlin was doing as he was told, before removing the hand from his mouth. Merlin narrowed eyes at Arthur, but remained silent.

“The first option is clearly out of the question, as my father will have you executed should you ever return to Camelot. We always knew this,” Arthur explained, still feeling saddened for his father who was so overcome with hatred and guilt that he couldn’t see that there was more than one way to view the world. He shook his head of the thought, returning his focus once again to the task at hand. “The second option also makes little sense, as I know you well enough by now to know that you won’t actually stay away. That puts you at risk of execution, and I’m not willing to take that chance with you.”

Merlin blinked at him, looking affronted. “I’m not _that_ stupid,” he said, pulling his free hand to reach up and slick back his hair. “I wouldn’t risk both your life and mine.”

This time it was Arthur’s turn to shoot Merlin a disbelieving look. He chuckled, wondering if Merlin actually believed what he was saying and stood up once more. “You do realise that you’re either delusional or a very good liar, right? I know for an absolute _fact_ that you won’t be able to stay away from Camelot, even for a few days, let alone any sort of extended period. Can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me that you could stay away from Camelot and away from me for an indeterminate amount of time, without ever being tempted to sneak back in to check up on things?”

Arthur folded arms across his chest and watched as Merlin stood as well, fight melting away as he considered the question. They both knew there was only one sincere answer that could be given, and as much as Merlin didn’t want to admit it, they both knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away, no matter what he tried to tell himself.

“All right, fine,” Merlin conceded, throwing his arms up in defeat. “You’re right. I probably _would_ try and sneak back into Camelot. But can you blame me? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, sire, but a lot of bad things seem to happen to you. I could never live with myself if I allowed you to get hurt somehow.”

“You do realise I’m not completely helpless, right?” Arthur asked, just because he felt it was necessary. He was getting a little tired of the fact that Merlin seemed to constantly imply that Arthur would be dead five hundred times over were it not for him. Even if it was true, he still had an ego to protect, and had saved Merlin’s scrawny, albeit lovely, arse on more than one occasion as well.

Merlin smirked at him and took a step towards Arthur. “I know. That’s not what I meant. But then what other option do we have? Both of us leaving Camelot?”

“It seems to be the only logical thing to do, actually,” Arthur admitted with a shrug, his tone belying the seriousness of the suggestion.

“You can’t leave Camelot. That’d be... that’d be completely out of the question,” Merlin stammered.

“Why?” Arthur shot back.

“What do you mean _why_? Because you’re the prince, that’s why. You can’t just leave your kingdom!”

“So, instead, I go back and either carry on without you, always worried sick that you’re going to get caught or be showing up in random places, or I return and you do show up, and I have no means of saving you a second time. Neither sound like particularly pleasant options, Merlin.”

Merlin gaped openly at him, as if Arthur had a horn growing out of his forehead, and planted both hands on his hips. “But what about your responsibilities? What about your position? What about your father?”

They were all fair questions, and Arthur certainly didn’t have all the answers. But like it or not, this soul bonding business had forever altered Arthur’s relationship with his father, and even if he was to return to Camelot without Merlin and without the ties of the soul bond, things would never again be as they once were. And this was a reality that Arthur had been turning over in his mind for quite some time now, but was only just recently hitting home.

Arthur took a step towards Merlin, wrapping his arms loosely around Merlin’s waist, just above where Merlin’s hands still remained firmly planted on his hips. “There are others who can take over in my absence, others on the council and amongst my knights that would do a fine job of taking care of all the responsibilities and duties I once had. I can’t say one way or another if my father would disinherit me, but I’m sure we’ll catch wind of it if something changes, in which case we can figure out what to do then.”

Merlin’s features softened just a bit, and his hands fell from his hips. “And what about your father? What will he think if you don’t return? Are you willing to just leave things as they are right now?”

Arthur sighed, leaning his forehead against Merlin’s for a moment, eyes closing briefly. He pulled back then, met with Merlin’s intoxicating gaze, and that seemed to soothe him somehow. “Merlin, I don’t see what other choices there are, save for going back to challenge the throne right now, and we both know that would end poorly. This isn’t exactly how I would have planned things to work out in the end, but I made my decision weeks ago, knowing full well that there would be some difficult consequences along the way. And I made that same decision earlier today when I declared that I didn’t want to break the bond.

“To return to Camelot right now would accomplish nothing. My father would still be furious with me and there would be an incredible amount of tension between us. The appearance of a divided household would lead to rumours that Camelot is weak, which could very well lead to some of Camelot’s enemies deciding to take it upon themselves to start a war in the hopes of catching us off guard. I still love my father, despite all that he’s done, and I know that he loves me. But I think that to return home now would only lead to more problems than anything else. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Merlin was silent for several moments, as he attempted to absorb all this information. It was either a testament to Arthur’s mild obsession with Merlin, or the fact that he simply knew him so well, but he could almost see the decision click in Merlin's mind, before he voiced it.

“I suppose I can see what you’re saying,” Merlin said, forehead crinkling. “But what will your father think? And where will we go?”

“We’re meeting up with Leon tomorrow. We can tell him to report back to my father that we disappeared. As to where we’ll go, I think that there are many options on that front.”

“But isn’t that sort of, I don’t know,” Merlin gestured around them, “sort of cruel? Just to disappear like that and leave the king without any explanation? Don’t you think he’ll come looking for you? Or, uh, for _us_?”

Arthur grabbed at the flailing hand, pulling it back underneath the water. He had to admit that Merlin did have somewhat of a point about his father, but at least they weren’t leading him to believe that the two of them were dead. “Look, to be honest, I think my father suspects that we might be together already anyway. It’s very possible that he will hear that we’ve ‘disappeared’ and come to the conclusion that it was by choice and not due to some tragedy. Even if he suspects something is amiss, it doesn’t mean he’ll come after us. Besides, we can handle whatever my father might throw our way. He won’t waste valuable resources on us either way, though. Not unless he thinks something suspicious is going on, which we will ensure doesn’t happen.”

For all Arthur’s attempts at reassuring Merlin, he was bloody stubborn. Worry lines edged his face, and Arthur wanted them to go away. “Do you think maybe he might come after Ealdor, or my mother?”

“I can’t see what that would ultimately accomplish, but we can keep an eye out if you’re concerned about that.”

“What about Gaius?”

“Merlin, you worry too much,” Arthur said, pulling Merlin close and placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Stop it. My father wouldn’t hurt Gaius. Now if you insist on this incessant worrying, I’m going to be forced to punish you.”

Merlin eyed him, looking less than convinced, but when he eventually nodded, Arthur pulled away, dipping back under the water for a moment before reemerging and splashing his companion in the process. “Now, pass me the soap, would you?”

* * *

"Arthur, are you absolutely sure this is the right thing to do?" Merlin asked again the next morning following breakfast, even though they'd done nothing but discuss this issue most of the previous night. Merlin was kneeling behind an already seated Arthur.  
   
Strong arms folded across Arthur's shoulders, wrapping tightly around his body, face pressing up against his own. Arthur leaned back into the embrace, relishing the feeling of being held in Merlin's arms, and turned his cheek slightly to press into Merlin, and he closed his eyes, feeling content.  
   
"Of course it is," he replied, with more confidence than he felt.  
   
Merlin began tracing light patterns with his thumb across Arthur's shoulder, the touch gentle but intimate, and it made Arthur feel warm and loved.  
   
"You can go back, you know," Merlin hummed softly. "Return home and tell your father whatever you need to tell him so he allows you to stay. I can wait... hide. It won't be that bad, I'm sure."  
   
He smiled, genuinely touched by the offer, but Arthur knew as well as Merlin that he would be sneaking back into Camelot every other day. It was far too great a risk, one that Arthur was not willing to take, no matter how much Merlin tried to convince him otherwise. "You absolutely will not hide," he declared with a grin, and felt Merlin's laugh as much as he heard it.  
   
"I can try," Merlin offered placatingly, giving Arthur's shoulders a squeeze, and he felt affection bubbling up in his stomach. Things had never exactly been easy for Arthur, despite his upbringing and privilege, and those complications only intensified once Merlin had been introduced into his life. But for all the ridiculous and sometimes incredibly dangerous situations they found themselves in, Arthur couldn't imagine his life without Merlin, didn't even want to _try_. He would gladly remain with him, for however long it took, so that when they finally were able to return to Camelot, it would be together.  
   
"Thank you, Merlin. But we both know that won't happen."

He felt Merlin sigh. “I just don’t want you to give up something that’s so important to you. For me. I mean, I appreciate it, Arthur. Don’t get me wrong. But if this isn’t what you want, then I don’t want to be the one holding you back. I’ll find a way to wait.”

They were possibly the sweetest words ever to spill from Merlin’s mouth, and Arthur loved him all the more for it.

Reaching up, he grabbed a hold of Merlin’s wrist and tugged on it. “Come here,” he commanded, and pried Merlin’s arms away from his shoulders, pulling on one hand until Merlin lurched forwards and to the side, falling into Arthur’s lap. They fumbled for a moment, limbs flailing about wildly, and Arthur manhandled Merlin until he was sitting in his lap, legs curling around his back. It wasn’t nearly as comfortable as Arthur imagined it would be in his head -- Merlin, scrawny though he was, still weighed a considerable amount, the hard ground beneath his arse unrelenting, especially with the added body weight of another person -- but it suited him just fine.

“I’m only going to say this once, so you’d better pay attention,” Arthur started off. “Camelot isn’t going anywhere. Even if I were to return now, the tension between my father and I would be too much for either of us to deal with. We need some time to sort things out and let the air clear. I’m not giving anything up by distancing myself. But I would be if I went back alone. The only thing I need is for you to shut up and stop fighting me on everything and at least _try_ and be enjoyable company for however long we are away.”

The ending of that speech hadn’t exactly gone as planned, but Arthur had a hard time expressing his feelings. Especially when they were so overwhelming, even though he was willing to recognise that he’d been in repressed love with Merlin for a lot longer than he cared to acknowledge, though he wasn't willing to use the word just yet. What he’d meant to say was that the only thing he needed was Merlin. Thankfully, the beaming grin plastered across his face told Arthur that he’d managed to decipher the code anyway.

“I always suspected you had a thing for me,” Merlin teased, smirking from ear to ear.

Arthur opened his mouth to retort something clever, but then Merlin was pressing his lips to Arthur’s, kissing him with so much warmth and affection that all thoughts of protest promptly died in his throat. Hands cupped Merlin’s face, fingertips burying into the outer fringes of his dark hair as Arthur deepened the kiss. It was slow and languid, exploring and tasting, without any particular intent except for simply enjoying the freedom in being together so intimately, and Arthur was quite certain that he would never tire of this, ever.

When they finally parted for air, Arthur smiled at Merlin, far happier than the situation should warrant but not caring either way, and wrapped his arms around the man’s back, pulling him into a tight embrace.

“It’ll be all right,” Arthur whispered into Merlin’s ear. “We’ll get through this.”

Merlin’s only response was to hold Arthur tighter in his arms, and somehow it was enough of an assurance for him that things would work out all right in the end.

* * *

Before sneaking away from the rest of the knights four days ago, Arthur had arranged to meet up with Leon when they were approximately half a day’s ride away, a few hours before dusk. The whole plan had been sketchy at best, as neither knew exactly what would happen once they parted, and whether or not it would even be possible to reconnect again. Still, provided Leon led the others down the exact route Arthur left for them, and barring any unforeseen circumstances, theoretically, it would have been possible to cross paths once more.

“Do you think he’ll actually make it?” Merlin’s voice was a whisper, breath ghosting across Arthur’s ear as they crouched amidst the brush overlooking the edge of the bog designated as their meeting place.

Arthur shrugged. He honestly had no idea what the odds were of Leon actually showing up on time, but if anyone could do it, Arthur knew it was him. “I don’t know. But I do know that if I had to count on someone, it’d be Leon,” Arthur said.

They’d set out early that evening, while the sun's light still beamed merrily down on them in a brilliantly clear sky, in order to make it to their meeting spot early, so they could hide. It was important for them to assess the situation before rushing out to meet up with Leon. Arthur had requested that if Merlin knew any invisibility spells, now would be an appropriate time to use them, to which Merlin informed him that he hadn’t mastered it yet and wasn’t willing to take that risk right now. So instead they took up residence behind a bush. It was not the most comfortable place in the world, but both agreed that it was worth it to prevent detection.

“How long do you think we should wait for him?” Merlin continued to natter quietly in Arthur’s ear.

A lazy shoulder quirked in response. “It’s only been an hour since we arrived. We need to give him more time than that. Who knows what kinds of things could have stalled him.”

“I wasn’t suggesting we leave. I was just wondering...” Merlin said, and Arthur could practically _feel_ the annoyed pout curling on his lips.

The sound of crunching leaves and breaking twigs startled them both into silence, and Arthur’s eyes widened, peering through the brush as he scanned the area quickly, searching for the source of the sound.

He saw nothing for several moments, and then, from behind a tree approximately twenty yards away, Leon stepped out, eyes darting around, searching for something -- some _one_. Arthur felt Merlin twitch beside him, and he instinctively reached out and grasped onto his wrist, squeezing it in a silent warning to remain absolutely still. Arthur forced himself to wait a full five minutes, listening intently for the sound of another pair of boots following Leon to their hiding place, but there was nothing.

Finally, once he felt the coast was indeed clear, Arthur tapped Merlin’s hand and inclined his head towards the knight. Standing slowly, he stepped out from behind the bush, startling Leon in the process.

“Sire!” he cried out, jumping on the spot in surprise, but at Arthur’s gestures, he lowered his voice. “I’m glad to see you,” he tried again, softer this time.

“You too, Leon,” Arthur said at the same moment that Merlin came over to join them.

“Merlin?” Leon’s eyes darted to the sorcerer in surprise, then back to Arthur. “I thought you would have been long gone by now.”

Both of Merlin’s brows shot to the top of his forehead, furrowing in confusion, but Arthur held up a hand to prevent him from speaking.

“I’ll explain in a moment,” Arthur directed at Leon. “But first, I need to know if you were followed. Understandably, this is a bit risky for both of us.”

Leon tossed a quick glance back over both shoulders and shook his head, folding arms loosely across his chest. “There’s no way I was followed. They have no reason to think my movements need to be tracked. In fact, I managed to completely avoid any suspicion whatsoever. They think the escape was magic induced, and have every intention of finding you both tomorrow.” He smiled, wide and satisfied, looking proud of himself.

Arthur wasn’t quite sure how Leon had managed to pull the scheme off, but he was impressed all the same. “I knew I could count on you,” Arthur said, voice full of praise.

Leon shuffled his feet and actually looked bashful for a few moments, a look Arthur had never seen on the burly knight before. “So what happened, sire?” he asked after a moment. “Were you able to break the bond?”

Merlin coughed lightly beside him, and Arthur’s eyes dropped briefly to the ground. He wasn’t exactly sure how to break this piece of news to Leon, or how he would react, for that matter. But lying wouldn’t accomplish anything and after everything the man had done for Arthur and Merlin, he doubted that this would suddenly change everything.

“Not exactly,” he said, raising his chin to look Leon in the eye. Arthur could feel Merlin’s eyes boring into the side of his face.

Leon’s forehead crinkled, brows furrowing. “Why not? Did something go wrong?”

“No, we found the high priestess. But...” he trailed off, and to Arthur’s immense horror he found that a flush was slowly creeping up his face, even though there was absolutely no logical reason for the response whatsoever. He cleared his throat, pointedly ignoring his body’s ridiculous reaction and silently prayed that Leon would as well. “We decided not to go through with breaking the bond,” he finished, mentally bracing for Leon’s reaction to that piece of information.

There was silence, stretching for several long moments as Leon’s gaze shifted back and forth between the two of them, assessing. Finally he nodded, as though he’d reached some sort of conclusion. “Oh.”

That was not what Arthur had been expecting at all. “Oh? What does that mean?” he asked, slightly more forceful than intended.

Leon paled. “Um, well... I’m sorry, sire, I didn’t mean anything by it,” he sputtered out, a ball of nervous energy all of a sudden.

But Arthur wanted to know what he was getting at. “Well, you must have meant something by the statement, and I want to know what it is.” Then, kinder, “You have my permission to speak freely without reprimand.” Never mind that Arthur wouldn’t be able to do anything even if he wanted to, which he didn’t, as he wasn’t going back to Camelot anyway. But Leon didn’t know that yet.

He paled even further, fingers twisting nervously, but Leon nodded with a determination that demonstrated why he was one of the finest knights Camelot had ever known. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions, sire. I just thought... well, I mean, I’ve kind of suspected for a little while now, but I never had any hard evidence, I suppose... except for, well, a handful of things I’ve witnessed. And now I hear you didn’t break the bond by choice and it kind of confirms what I’d thought before, but that’s not to say I’m even remotely correct in my assumptions...”

Leon was starting to sound like Merlin. “Just spit it out,” Arthur said, not unkindly, strongly suspecting he had an idea of where this was going, flush deepening in response without even having heard the words yet.

His gaze drifted to Merlin for a few seconds before returning to Arthur. “You’re together.” Leon gestured between the two of them with one hand. “Together... romantically. Sire.” It was a statement, not a question. "Not that it matters, of course, sire, who you choose to, well..." he trailed off, turning pink himself.

If it was possible to turn a darker shade of red, it certainly didn’t seem so to Arthur, based on how hot he felt, like the sun was blaring down at him from a mere few feet away. Casting a furtive glance in Merlin’s direction, he saw that the man wasn’t faring any better than he was.

Still, Arthur was the prince, and he was allowed to be with whomever he desired, and if anyone had a problem with his choice of bed partners, well that was just too damn bad for them. Leon, though, for his part, didn’t appear to be bothered by the idea of Arthur being involved with Merlin; he was simply bothered by having to publicly _state_ what he believed, which was understandable. Arthur decided in that moment that he was not going to be ashamed of his relationship with Merlin. It was common knowledge that many of the knights and servants already thought they were sexually involved anyway, even if they weren't aware of his knowledge of those rumours.

He nodded, willing the flush to fade. “Yes, we are,” Arthur admitted, voice confident and strong. To his right, Merlin let out a little yelp, apparently shocked at Arthur’s immediate confirmation of their relationship, and he tossed an amused glance in Merlin’s direction. But he was too busy gaping in Leon’s general direction to notice.

“But the decision was based on numerous factors, not the least of which being that breaking the bond could have a potentially detrimental effect on both of us,” he said, before either Merlin or Leon had a chance to interject. “So, in the end, we both decided it would be for the best to leave things as they are.”

Some of the embarrassment drained from Leon’s face, and eventually he smiled at them. “As long as you’re happy, sire, then I am too,” he said, no insincerity evident in his tone. “So, what's the plan now then? I assume Merlin can’t return with us...” He stopped speaking mid-sentence, eyes widening as though just figuring out a very important secret.

Arthur watched with mild amusement as Leon’s face went through a series of emotions -- first confusion, then disbelief, followed by comprehension and finally acceptance. He seemed to be getting it on his own, so Arthur allowed him time to put the pieces together. He eyed each one in turn. “You’re not coming back to Camelot, are you?” But the question was directed at Arthur alone.

“I think, for the time being, it would be best if we didn’t return,” Arthur said evenly.

And even though he knew it was the right decision, his heart still clenched at actually voicing the intention, still ached at the idea of being away from his home, not knowing when they would be able to return. He tried not to think about who would train the rest of the knights -- both Leon and Gawain were more than skilled enough to take on such responsibility -- or who would go out on patrol and take care of raiding parties. But Arthur reminded himself that his men were strong and courageous and self-sufficient. They would be fine on their own. The separation might even prove to do them a world of good in the long run. And his father... The reality was that they would likely never be able to see eye to eye again, after everything that had happened. It was probably for the best that he keep his distance from the king, at least for now, even though it pained Arthur to admit it.

It hurt, to be saying good-bye of his own free will, but the thought of risking Merlin’s life -- of being without him for even a few months -- brought Arthur back to the place in which he’d been at when he first made the suggestion, and he knew that the loss of Merlin would hurt far worse.

Leon nodded. “I understand. But what do we tell the king upon returning to the castle?”

Arthur reached up to scratch his chin thoughtfully. “You can tell him that we escaped partway through the journey, and when you caught up to us at the high priestess’ tower, we were nowhere to be found. You found evidence that we’d been there recently, and you will find something, but that it seems as if we disappeared.”

Lines creased Leon's forehead, as his brows furrowed. “Don’t you think that might seem a little too... easy, sire?” he asked.

But Arthur merely shrugged. “It is essentially what happened, is it not?”

“I suppose so,” he agreed, reluctantly. “However, don’t you worry that your father will start looking for you, sire? And forgive me for asking this, but isn't it sort of... unfair to mislead the king in this way?”

They probably didn’t have much time left, but Arthur felt that it was important that Leon understand where they were coming from. So he shared with him the same information he’d just yesterday outlined to ease Merlin’s mind. It was thorough enough to give some solid backing to the plan, and enough information to hopefully ease any of his guilt.

“Leon, I know I’m once again asking a great deal of you. If you feel uncomfortable with anything, you can tell my father the truth, or tell him that I forced you to do these things. I know every man has his limits, and it is certainly reasonable if you’ve reached yours,” Arthur said, noting the look of hesitation still plastered across the knight’s face.

But in the end, he appeared to not need the reassurances after all. “Sire, I won’t lie and say I completely agree with this decision, but I understand your perspective and agree that it might be best for you to stay away for a while. I’ve already gone this far. I can go the rest of the distance for you.”

“Thank you, Leon,” Arthur said. “I doubt I will ever be able to repay you for the loyalty and dedication you have shown me, but some day when I am king, I hope I can find some way to do so.”

Arthur reached out and clasped Leon’s forearm, shaking it firmly as he stared intently at the man.

Then Leon turned to Merlin and offered out his hand to him as well. The sorcerer readily accepted it. “Keep an eye on him, would you?” he suggested, gesturing obviously in Arthur’s direction with his head. “He has a penchant for getting into trouble.” And then he winked at Merlin, drawing a warm laugh out of him at the comment.

“I will. I promise,” Merlin told him sincerely.

“Well, I suppose this is it, then. Best of luck to you both,” Leon finally said, seeming a bit awkward all of a sudden, as though he didn't quite want to leave but knew he still had to anyway. “But I suppose I’d best be heading back now.”  
   
And then there was nothing left to say, and he was walking away, heading towards his own camp once more. As Arthur's gaze followed his retreating form, he knew an important chapter in his life was closing, and another was beginning, and Arthur would be lying if he said that the thought didn't terrify him, just a bit. But as Arthur felt Merlin's hand brush up against his, and their fingers entwined, he felt confident that together, they would truly be all right.


	11. Chapter 11

** This Dark Road Will Lead Us Where We Want to Be -- Part Eleven **

 

**Two Years Later...**

 **~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

Arthur awoke to the feel of fingers running through his hair, gentle and languid. The air was warm, sun shining brightly through the windows of the barn, casting its rays over the straw where they lay. Arthur reluctantly pried his head from its resting spot on Merlin’s chest and tilted his chin up to capture Merlin’s mouth in a kiss. Merlin kissed back eagerly, tugging at Arthur’s bare bicep in an attempt to pull him closer. They continued exploration of mouths that each knew backwards and forwards, never tiring of the feelings and sensations kissing elicited in them, but not moving towards any particular goal.

After a few satisfying minutes, Merlin finally broke the kiss, and Arthur settled back against his chest, hand lazily trailing down Merlin’s body, fingers ghosting lightly across his soft skin with no real intent. They lay like that for several minutes, and Arthur took this opportunity to simply listen to Merlin’s heart. Over the past two years they had grown incredibly close, and their bond had strengthened tenfold. They had long since reached the point where they could feel each other’s emotions and sense thoughts by merely ‘listening’ to one another. At first it had taken getting accustomed to, but now Arthur couldn’t imagine his life being any other way.

There was something weighing on Merlin’s mind this morning. Arthur could delve deeper to find the thought, but they’d mutually decided long ago that they would respect each other’s privacy unless permission was granted first.

“Are you all right?” Arthur asked, shifting so he could glance up at Merlin, shooting him a questioning look.

“I’m fine,” he said with a soft smile.

Arthur’s brows furrowed. “Then why do I sense a heaviness in your heart today?”

He sighed, gaze darting over Arthur’s head for a moment. “It’s time,” Merlin said, and Arthur frowned at him.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it’s time to go back to Camelot,” he said, tone even and composed.

Arthur pushed himself off of Merlin entirely, sitting up and looking down at him. “How do you know? Where is this coming from?”

Merlin shrugged, propping himself up on his elbows. “I don’t know for sure. I just have this sense that we need to get back to Camelot, that we need to get going as soon as possible.”

The serious tone, coupled with the actual words he’d uttered, sent a tiny jolt of fear down Arthur’s spine. “Is Camelot in trouble? Or, did something... did something happen to my father? Is he still alive, or...?”

A hand was immediately on his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. Arthur turned worried eyes to Merlin, who now sat opposite him. “Your father’s still alive.” He bit his lip. “At least as far as I can sense. But, um, I think... I think he might not have much time left.”

Arthur blinked, not quite sure how to take that news, or exactly what it meant. “You mean he’s dying? Or did you mean something else?” There was a careful edge to his voice, a hesitancy to actually learn the truth, while at the same time needing to know nothing else.

“No,” Merlin said, shaking his head forlornly, free hand reaching down to rest on Arthur’s thigh. The compassion in his eyes told Arthur the answer before the words ever left his mouth. “I’m not entirely sure, but I think... I think he’s dying, Arthur. I’m so sorry.”

It felt like a punch to the gut. Arthur may not have seen eye to eye with his father on most things, and had been estranged from Utherfor almost two years now. But the fact still remained that he was Arthur’s father, and in spite of everything, Arthur still loved him, stupid and weak as that may have made him. Arthur closed his eyes, focusing on Merlin until he could feel the same pull, drawing from Merlin’s inner strength and emotional resources, which he now had full access to, and the knowledge tugged at his heart, compelling him into action.

He nodded, feeling certain. “We should leave at once.”

*****

They stopped approximately five miles away from Camelot, both dreading what they were about to do, but knowing it was a necessary evil all the same. They hadn’t stayed away from Camelot for the past two years, only to saunter back in and have Merlin detained and beheaded so close to the time when he would finally be safe once more.

Arthur dismounted his horse and came over to stand beside Merlin’s as he waited for him to do the same.

“Look, Merlin, let’s not make a big show of this, all right?” he suggested once Merlin had dismounted, before he had the chance to say anything. “It’s just going to be for a short period of time. No more than a week, at most. We’ve spent almost every single day for the last two years together; we’ll be all right. Everything will be just fine.”

Merlin’s lips seemed to pull in different directions, and Arthur couldn’t figure out if he was trying not to laugh or trying not to frown. “You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself as much as you’re trying to convince me,” he said.

Of course, there was no way Arthur was about to admit that, even if Merlin had a valid point. “Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin. I am a tough, manly warrior who doesn’t get upset about leaving his... companion behind for a few days,” he insisted. But it lacked the bite and conviction he was hoping for, instead coming across as lukewarm at best.

Merlin eyed him with an air of suspicion, not even flinching at the fact that Arthur had just called him his ‘companion’, a word Merlin wasn’t particularly fond of. “You may think you’re some big, vicious creature, Arthur, but I know that deep down you’re nothing more than a playful little kitten.”

Arthur gasped in mock horror at the charge. “I am not!” he defended himself, eyes going comically wide. The sight made Merlin chuckle, and Arthur realised that as pathetic as it was, he really _would_ miss the man immensely.

Still, he was not about to melt into a puddle of sorrow over the fact that they wouldn’t see one another for a few days. Arthur had a reputation to maintain, after all. Even if the only person he was trying to impress these days was Merlin himself, it would do no one any good if Camelot’s future king returned acting like a dependent child. Besides, Arthur reasoned to himself, while working on developing their bond further, Arthur and Merlin had gone for extended periods of time in the past without the other, in order to prepare in case of any future unintended separation. They’d survived then and would do so now.

“Look, just be careful and take care of yourself and the horse all right? I’ll contact you again when I know it’s safe.”

Arthur reached out to clap Merlin on the shoulder, with every intention of walking away. But then a pair of hands were fisting in his tunic, and pulling him close. At first Arthur struggled a bit, not because he didn’t enjoy being in Merlin’s embrace, but because he still had it in his head that appearances needed to be maintained. But when it became obvious that Merlin wasn’t going to let go, Arthur reluctantly permitted himself to wrap one arm around Merlin’s waist and another across his back, pressing into the embrace in spite of himself.

“I love you,” Merlin whispered in his ear, voice warm and affectionate and sad, all at once.

And Arthur, for all his protests of not making a big scene, pulled Merlin tighter against his chest, pressing his face into the side Merlin’s head and inhaling his scent, , savouring everything about it. “I love you, too,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to Merlin’s neck just below his jaw line.

After a moment, Arthur pulled back reluctantly, still holding onto Merlin’s arms. “It’ll be fine. I’ll go and see my father and do whatever needs to be done. You just need to promise me that you won’t come anywhere near Camelot, under _any_ circumstances. I can’t risk it, all right?”

Typical of Merlin, even though they’d already discussed this several times while on route, he still looked unimpressed, as if this were the first time he’d heard such a suggestion. “But what if something happens to you? Or something goes wrong?”

“Then I’ll call you using our connection--”

“And what if you can’t, for some reason?”

“I’m only going to be away from you for a few days, Merlin.”

“That’s still enough time to get into trouble.”

Arthur tried not to roll his eyes at Merlin. “Believe it or not, I _did_ manage to survive for twenty years without you by my side every second of every day.”

“I know. But ever since I arrived, all that’s changed.”

“Then perhaps I have a better shot at actually staying safe if you’re _not_ around,” he pointed out.

Merlin stopped for a moment, and seemed to consider this, either not noticing he’d just been insulted, or not caring. “Seriously, though, Arthur, what if you can’t call me?”

“Then I’ll send Gaius out to find you.”

“And what if you can’t _tell_ \--“

This time Arthur reached out and clamped a hand down on Merlin’s mouth, silencing him, even if only for a few precious moments.

“That’s enough out of you. Stop worrying. I’ll see you soon.”

He removed his hand from Merlin’s mouth after a few seconds and mounted his horse once more. With one final toss over his shoulder, just to ensure Merlin wasn’t secretly following in spite of being told not to, Arthur headed for Camelot -- to a castle and a father he hadn’t seen in two years, wondering how it was going to feel to be home again.

* * *

Arthur’s arrival in Camelot brought with it far less fanfare and attention than he expected, though in the end he was grateful for that fact. Slipping into the city boundaries was simple enough, an oversized brown cloak covering his head, but not attempting to mask his identity. The odd person glanced over at him, some with blank stares and others eyeing him with a vague expression of recognition, but not a single individual approached him.

A rush of emotions flooded Arthur in steady waves as the sights, sounds and smells of Camelot assaulted his senses. It felt very much like every other city and town they’d visited over the course of the past two years, and at the same time was entirely different. There was something entirely unique about Camelot that Arthur couldn’t put his finger on. It was as if nothing and everything had changed since he’d last set foot in the city, and while a part of Arthur felt relief at being back, it didn’t exactly feel like home any longer either. He hadn’t had a place to officially call his own over the past couple of years and yet he never felt as if he didn’t belong. The concept of ‘home’ was changing for Arthur. It could be a barn in Ealdor, an inn at a remote village, or even a cave in the forest, provided Merlin was there with him. The sentimentality of the thought was not lost on Arthur, though he’d long since abandoned any pretences about just how much Merlin meant to him, after nearly losing him.

Still, memories from his childhood, as well as some of the more recent tragedies drifted to mind, and Arthur struggled with reconciling all of this with his changing philosophies on life. And for the first time, Arthur was starting to realise that maybe he had changed a great deal over the past couple of years.

Arthur both anticipated and dreaded the moment when he would have to face the castle guards, and for a moment he was struck with the idea that it was entirely possible to encounter guards that didn’t even know who he was. He had been away for two years, which was more than enough time for new knights to begin moving up the ranks. For that matter, it was entirely possible that none of his former knights remained in Uther’s service at all.

Shaking his head to clear them of such ridiculous thoughts -- it was highly unlikely, but even if it did happen, he would deal with it like he’d dealt with every other struggle that cropped up in his life -- Arthur braced himself for the impending confrontation, as the castle walls grew with each step forward.

It was with no small amount of relief, that Arthur was greeted by the sight of Hector and Bedivere upon entering the courtyard. Both looked well. Hector was slightly taller, build bulkier than before, and he appeared more comfortable in his own skin, having aged well from the youth Arthur remember him to be. Bedivere was still an imposing sight, large and burly, but he looked leaner than Arthur remembered.

Recognition lit in both pairs of eyes before Arthur even had time to remove the hood of his cloak to properly reveal his face.

Bedivere spoke first, voice loud and boisterous. “Arthur! Sire! You’ve... you’ve returned.” He looked as if he was seeing a ghost. Hector merely stared at Arthur full of wide-eyed shock, apparently stunned into silence.

The knight’s outburst began to draw some attention, as a few people turned to stare, and Arthur quickly pulled up the hood of his cloak, shielding his face from onlookers. At this very moment he preferred to see his father before making any sort of official announcement that he was back in Camelot.

“Yes,” he confirmed, just in case they needed the auditory evidence as well.

“Where have you been, sire? We thought... well, we thought you’d gone missing.” Bedivere’s confusion was apparent, and Arthur felt a twinge of guilt at the fact that he’d vanished without ever being able to reassure anyone that he was all right.

“I know,” Arthur said, dropping his voice and leaning in closely. “I apologise for allowing you to believe so, and I promise to explain everything later, but right now I would appreciate if we kept it quiet that I’m back in Camelot. I need to see my father. I hear that he’s... sick?”

The two knights exchanged a brief glance before Bedivere turned his attention back to Arthur, a sympathetic expression on his face. “Yes, I’m afraid that he is,” he confirmed. The heaviness in the pit of Arthur’s stomach grew just slightly. “We don’t know the details, but he’s been sick for a couple of weeks now.”

“I need to see him,” Arthur said.

Hector nodded, and seemed to finally find his voice. “I can take you to Gaius.”

*****

Hector led Arthur down the familiar path to Gaius’ chambers, stopping just outside the doors.

He knocked on the door and pushed it open before waiting for permission. “Gaius?” Hector called out, making his way into the room, and Arthur followed a few steps behind him.

Gaius turned around from the table he worked at in the middle of the room, and Arthur was immediately filled with affection upon seeing his old friend again. He looked older than Arthur remembered, wrinkle lines creasing his face, more pronounced hunch to his shoulders, and he looked weary and exhausted. But upon sighting Arthur, he broke into a wide grin, and suddenly it seemed like Gaius was the same person he’d always known.

“Sire!” Gaius’ exclamation resounded heavily in the room, eyes round as saucers upon his entrance. He didn’t appear surprised to see that he was alive, simply surprised that he was _there_.

Gaius abandoned the vials he was holding in favour of rushing over to Arthur, stopping a few feet short of the man, looking as if he was uncertain whether to slap or hug him.

“Gaius. It’s good to see you again,” Arthur told him with a smile, slightly hesitant but sincere all the same.

He eyed Arthur for a moment, then reached out to clasp his proffered hand, shaking it with vigour. Arthur returned the gesture, his left hand coming up to clasp Gaius’ forearm as well.

“When did you arrive?” he asked, craning his neck suddenly, as if trying to catch a glimpse of something behind Arthur’s shoulder. It took a moment for it to register that he was probably looking to see if Merlin had joined him. Hector must have slipped out at some point during this exchange, for which Arthur was grateful. He didn’t want to talk about Merlin in front of anyone else just yet, save for Gaius.

He loosened his grip on Gaius’ arm, allowing his hands to fall back to his side. “I just got in today,” he shared. “Well, about thirty minutes ago, to be precise.”

Gaius nodded in his direction before gesturing towards his workbench. Arthur followed him wordlessly, taking a seat at the far end of the bench while Gaius returned to the foot of the table, picking up the vials once more. He looked like he had a million questions running through his brain, and wasn’t able to pick out which one to ask first. So Arthur took it upon himself to try and make things easier on his old friend.

“I’ve no doubt you probably have a hundred questions for me, Gaius, and I swear that I will answer all of them in good time. But for now I think it would probably be in our best interest if I just give you the brief summary.” Gaius nodded encouragingly, and Arthur carried on. “Two years ago, Merlin and I found the high priestess in her tower. We endured and passed the trials, and were offered the ability to have our bond severed.”

Arthur paused for a fraction of a second, but it seemed to be enough time to give Gaius an opening. “What happened when you broke the soul bond?”

Arthur leaned against the table, resting an arm on its rough surface. “We didn’t,” he admitted. “By mutual decision.”

If Gaius thought there was anything suspicious or off about the statement, he didn’t let it show. Reaching for a large flask, he placed it on top of the newly lit burner and began to pour various coloured liquids into the jar as he spoke. “Does that mean that Merlin is in Camelot now then, sire?”

“He damn well better not be,” Arthur said with vehemence, almost involuntarily, and Gaius arched an eyebrow. “I mean, no. I told him that he needed to stay away for his own safety; a couple of days at most,” he hastily amended.

The brow hiked even higher up his forehead. “And you expect Merlin to obey, sire?”

“Not usually. But I think he will in this situation, as I can call on him at any point in time. Besides, he has this ability to sense when I’m distressed or in danger, so he’ll know one way or the other.”

One of the jars started to boil over, and Gaius quickly removed it from the heat, placing it down on the surface of the table. “How is Merlin?” he asked, voice seeping with affection.

Arthur smiled fondly. “He’s well. His typical clumsy, head-strong self. He’s even put on a bit of weight, if you can believe that.”

The relieved smile Arthur received in return momentarily distracted Arthur from why he was here. “I’m glad to hear of it, sire. You’ve been together these past two years then?” Gaius queried, and Arthur nodded in confirmation. He hesitated for a second before continuing on to ask, “Where did you go?”

It was somewhat of a complicated answer. Arthur and Merlin had gone many places, deciding it would be safer if they didn’t stay stationary for more than a week at a time. They’d traveled all around the region, always remaining within the kingdom, but taking special care to hide their tracks. It’d been a transient life, but it only took a few weeks for Arthur to adjust to living in a world without the luxuries he’d grown accustomed to. And at least twice a year, they’d gone to Ealdor to stay with Hunith, which was always pleasant. All the while, Merlin practiced his magic and Arthur kept in shape by sparring with creatures that Merlin conjured.

“All over the place,” Arthur said vaguely. “We can tell you all about it some other time.”

Gaius nodded, and his face fell, expression turning solemn quite quickly. “Sire, I can only assume that you’ve returned because you heard about the king...” he started, giving Arthur such a pained expression that he felt it reach down and grab at his heart.

“I know, Gaius. My father is sick, possibly dying, which is why I’m here.”

“Then you know what happened to him.” It was a statement, not a question, and Arthur shook his head in response, tapping a finger gently against the table.

“I’m afraid I don’t have that piece of information yet. All I knew was that I needed to return as soon as possible.”

Gaius removed the flask from the burner and set it down, off to the side. “You have good timing, sire. It doesn’t appear that he has much time left; I figure a few days at best. I can take you to see him right now, if you’d like.”

The offer took him a little off guard, having hoped to be able to bathe and change following several days of travel, but he was here to see his father, and that was his main focus at the moment.

“Please do,” he said, and after pouring the strange mixture -- not so unlike the one he’d made Arthur drink years ago, even though it suddenly felt like only yesterday -- Gaius led him to Uther’s chambers.

*****

“He’s been in and out of consciousness for the last couple of days,” Gaius informed Arthur, speaking in hushed tones, as they walked down the corridor that led to his father’s chambers.

“And there is truly nothing you can do for him?” Arthur questioned.

Gaius shook his head sadly, looking worn and tired, as if he’d aged far more than two years since Arthur had last seen him. “I’m afraid not, sire. But even if I could, I fear it’d already be too late anyway; his illness has already progressed into the final stages, from what I’ve witnessed.”

They continued in silence once more until the familiar route led them to the end of the hall that housed the king’s chambers.

Arthur stopped just outside the door, suddenly filled with a great sense of worry and trepidation as it crossed his mind that this could all just be a huge mistake. The last time he’d seen his father, they had fought bitterly. Who was to say that Uther would even want to see Arthur again? It might only remind him of his own failings as a father, to see a son who abandoned the throne for the love of a sorcerer, his sworn enemy. It was with this thought that Arthur also found himself desperately wishing Merlin was here, though he prevented himself from contacting Merlin through their mental connection.

Gaius, noting his hesitation, turned to face Arthur. “Sire?”

“What if he doesn’t want to see me? I left two years ago; why would he want to see me again? Gaius, I wonder if perhaps I made a mistake in coming here,” he said, surprised at his frank honesty, but feeling better for simply putting the thoughts out there.

But Gaius shook his head, giving Arthur a meaningful stare as fingers curled around his arm. “I can assure you, sire, that that is not the case. Uther has missed you terribly since you went missing.”

Arthur frowned, finding that hard to believe. “Is that why he never bothered to look for me then?” It wasn’t that he’d _wanted_ to be hunted by his father and in fact, it was the last thing either he or Merlin desired; but there’d always been a part of Arthur, infinitesimal but pervading all the same, that believed that Uther’s lack of effort in trying to track down his one and only son spoke volumes of his true feelings for Arthur, in spite of numerous evidences to the contrary.

“No, I’m afraid you’re mistaken, sire,” Gaius said, leaning in closer to Arthur even though there was no one wandering these halls at the moment. “Uther chose not to look for you because he knew you’d left of your own accord, and that you would not return to Camelot unless you desired to return. He recognised that no amount of searching for you would change matters and so he decided not to pursue it.”

Guilt bubbled up in Arthur’s stomach, unbidden and uncomfortable at this knowledge, as it very much clashed with the reality he’d created for himself all these years. He wasn’t entirely sure if he believed Gaius’ words or not, but he knew he would likely soon find out either way.

Arthur nodded, not knowing what to say to Gaius, how to respond to that information. Instead he said, “Let me see him.”

*****

The first thing Arthur noticed about the room as he entered was the fact that it was warm and well lit, though far warmer than it’d been in the rest of the castle, and Arthur wondered if it was kept that way purposely, due to his sickness. Doing a brief scan of the room, Arthur took in his surroundings, noting that it still looked the same; felt the same.

Uther lay in the bed, eyes closed, blankets tucked around his body. His face was ashen, colour drained away to leave an almost white complexion in its wake. Eyes were sunken in dark sockets, wrinkles creasing his forehead and at the corners of his eyelids. He was thin and ragged, like a limp doll instead of the strong man he’d once been. Uther looked to be years beyond his actual age, and seemed every bit the frail and dying man Gaius claimed him to be. Arthur bit back the regret and the sorrow that was threatening to grab him in a chokehold.

Instead, he shook his head to clear them of those thoughts and approached his father’s bed hesitantly, nerves coiling in his gut. He walked right up to the edge of the bed and stopped, watching and waiting for Uther’s response. His breathing was steady, but laboured at the same time, eyes closed. A stool rested on the ground just in front of him, and Arthur sat down on it, simply watching his father breathe for a few minutes.

“Father,” Arthur said, voice quiet. He reached out a tentative hand, wanting to touch him but not sure if he should, or if it would even be welcome.

Uther’s eyelids fluttered, as if responding to the sound, but they remained closed, Arthur’s hand still hovering aimlessly in the air.

Arthur swallowed, and lowered his hand, pressing a fist into his thigh instead. “Father, it’s me, Arthur,” he said, not sure if Uther could hear him but knowing he had some things to say either way.

“I just... I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. For the way things turned out between us. I never meant for any of this to happen.” He took a deep breath, watching and waiting for any sort of response, but none arrived. So he carried on. “I want you to know that I didn’t return to Camelot because I couldn’t; not because I didn’t want to. You need to understand you made it that way. I don’t agree with your stance on magic, and I never will. I wish you could see that it’s not the magic that’s good or evil, but the person who’s using it. But in spite of everything, that doesn’t mean that I don’t love you, or that I ever stopped loving you. I wish it could have been different; I wish I could have been here, at home, for the past two years. I couldn’t.”

Arthur closed his eyes, continued to fight back the various emotions coursing through his veins, but he reached out once more and this time, took his father’s hand. Perhaps they’d never get a chance to reconcile, and maybe that was how it was meant to be. But he didn’t regret returning home to have a chance to say good-bye.

“But I’m here now, for what it’s worth,” he said finally, squeezing Uther’s hand. Tears pricked at his eyes unexpectedly, but Arthur fought them back, still instinctively fighting to hide his weaknesses from his father, even while he himself was so utterly weak.

Arthur sat there for quite a while, watching the gentle rise and fall of his father’s chest while he waited for something he couldn’t even identify. It hurt, more than Arthur expected, to see his father, the once great King Uther, looking so frail and weak. And it hurt even more that they’d been ripped apart by the very thing which had brought them together in the first place. Arthur still loved his father, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that things would change when he ascended to the throne, and that the people of Camelot would never fear sorcery in the same way they had for the past two decades.

After some time had passed, with no indication that Uther could hear him, Arthur thought that perhaps it would be best to take his leave and try again tomorrow. He leaned forward to stand, but all of a sudden Uther’s eyes opened, and Arthur froze in place, neither sitting nor fully standing.

“Father?” he asked cautiously, staring disbelievingly at the king. Uther’s eyes seemed hazy and unfocussed, but they found Arthur’s face eventually, trained steadily on his features.

“Can you hear me?” Arthur tried again.

Uther remained silent, but Arthur felt his hand twitch, and he cast his gaze down to see his father’s fingers curling lightly around his own.

Uther sucked in a shaky breath and opened his mouth to speak. Leaning forward and putting his ear to his father’s lips. He said only one word, but it was very clear to Arthur: “Son.”

In spite of his physical state, the single word held so much significance. It was not filled with anger or hatred or disappointment, but instead with hope, and affection, and for the first time in a very long time, Arthur felt love radiating from his father. He smiled at his father, tears welling up once more, but before he could speak again, Uther’s eyes fell shut once more, and did not open again.

It would be the last time Uther opened his eyes or spoke. They hadn’t reconciled, or at least not in the way that Arthur had hoped. But it was something. It was _enough_ , and Arthur was eternally grateful that he’d made it back home to see his father one last time.

* * *

Merlin showed up in Arthur’s old chambers that same evening.

“I know you told me to wait, but I have a good reason for being here,” Merlin said immediately upon being sighted, hands raised in surrender.

But Arthur didn’t care what excuses he had for why he’d disobeyed a direct order, or for how he’d managed to make it all the way into the castle undetected. For once Merlin had made a decision that probably was the correct one, remiss as Arthur was to admit that he may have been wrong about coming here alone. There was no risk to Merlin; he knew that now. Arthur had been absolutely miserable the rest of the day, wanting nothing more than to not be alone, especially as word hadn’t yet spread that he’d returned, and suddenly Arthur’s wish had been granted. Maybe Arthur would have to start rethinking his belief that he was always correct, and grant Merlin that on occasion, he may not be wrong after all.

“I don’t care,” Arthur said, as he strode purposely over to Merlin, and before he could try and explain, Arthur wrapped him in a warm embrace, silencing any comments he may have had. “I’m glad you’re here.”

*****

Later on, Merlin decided that Arthur needed to have a bath, that it would be good for him. And when Arthur protested that he didn’t want to call a servant to bring him water, Merlin waved his hand, uttering a few words, and the water appeared in his tub, steam rising from the liquid instantly.

“How did you do that?” Arthur couldn’t help but ask, mind drifting back to the time when Camelot had been entirely without water. This would have been a good spell to know back then, he mused to himself.

“I didn’t conjure it from thin air, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Merlin said with a smile, as he helped Arthur undress. It’d been two years since Merlin had behaved in a servant-like manner, especially when it came to dressing and undressing him, and it felt both familiar and strange at the same time. In fact, for the past two years, Arthur and Merlin had behaved as equals in all respects. He wondered how that arrangement would play out now that they were back, but pushed the thought away as being irrelevant at present. They’d have lots of time to figure out those details later.

“Then what did you do?” Arthur inquired, sinking as low as he could into the tub. The heat immediately suffused into his muscles, and he felt some of the tension slip away into oblivion.

“I just transferred water from the well to your bath tub, heating it in the process,” he stated, as if it were the simplest task in the world.

“Of course,” Arthur said dryly, and Merlin smirked at him, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Arthur bathed in relative silence, and when he was done, insisted that Merlin use the water as well. He remained wrapped in his towels for the duration of Merlin’s quick bath, finding his mind drifting off into his own thoughts on several instances, in spite of Merlin’s occasional chattering.

Merlin dried himself off quickly, but instead of dressing, he tossed the towel to the floor, climbing into Arthur’s bed.

“Come here,” Merlin ordered, leaning back against the headboard, pillows stacked behind his back.

Arthur glanced at him for a moment before removing his own towel and standing to pad over to Merlin. He climbed into the bed, settling between Merlin’s legs, and leaned back against his chest. Merlin’s left arm curled around Arthur’s chest, his right coming to rest on Arthur’s thigh.

They lay together like that for several minutes, Merlin’s fingers tracing light patterns into Arthur’s skin with both hands. Arthur rested his head against the top of Merlin’s shoulder, and soft lips pressed gentle kisses to his jaw and neck. They didn’t speak; there was no need. Arthur was hurting, and Merlin knew what to do to comfort him.

Eventually, the hand on Arthur’s thigh moved to trail down Arthur’s abdomen, following the line of hair leading to his nearly hard erection. Merlin’s fingers danced through the coarse hair, continuing to move south, but he didn’t touch Arthur there. Instead, he cupped Arthur’s balls, rolling them languidly between his fingers, and Arthur let out a little whimper in response.

When he finished playing with Arthur’s balls, he trailed fingers up the hard length of Arthur’s cock, coming to rest at his head. Merlin’s thumb swiped over the head of Arthur’s cock, leaking pre-come, and he continued to massage the area. Arthur’s breathing quickened, but he resisted the urge to arch up into Merlin’s touch, as much as he desired to so. Finally, after several long moments of teasing, Merlin wrapped his hand fully around Arthur’s erection, squeezing firmly at the base.

Arthur groaned, and with his right hand, reached around to grab hold of Merlin’s thigh as he spread his legs further apart.

Merlin’s strokes were slow at first, teasing, with the intent of building up his climax, and Arthur couldn’t help but thrust his hips instinctively anyway. With his other hand, Merlin teased Arthur’s nipples, running fingers over their pebbled surface and squeezing to elicit a moan from Arthur.

He continued to stroke Arthur, increasing his speed and flicking his wrist in _just_ the right way -- the way that he knew made Arthur come apart -- but Arthur could already feel Merlin’s magic thrumming through him. They often used magic when having sex, sometimes to hold off their release, or to make it more intense, or even to heighten all other physical sensation. This time Merlin was doing all three, and it made Arthur harder than he’d been in a very long time.

“Merlin, _please_ ,” he begged, desperate to find release, as he felt Merlin sucking and biting gently at the skin just below his ear.

Merlin grinned into his neck and suddenly he picked up the pace with alarming intensity, Arthur’s own hips thrusting into Merlin’s firm strokes. Behind him he could feel Merlin’s own hardness pressing into his back and that turned him on even more.

Merlin continued this frantic pace for a few more moments, and then Arthur was coming with a cry, screaming Merlin’s name with such enthusiastic vigour that it was likely the entire castle heard him. Merlin pumped him through the aftershocks, only stopping when Arthur finally collapsed back against his chest, sweaty and panting desperately. For several moments Arthur could barely breathe, let alone move, and Merlin seemed content to hold him tightly in his arms.

“Merlin... thank you,” Arthur whispered, when he’d finally caught his breath. As if in response to his comment, he suddenly felt Merlin’s cock twitch at his back, and he sat up slowly, turning to look behind him.

“Let me,” he said, gesturing towards Merlin’s own neglected erection.

But Merlin shook his head. “No, it’s fine, Arthur. This is about you, not me,” Merlin said, and tried to pull Arthur back down to his chest.

However, Arthur wasn’t about to allow that to happen. Pulling away from Merlin, he moved onto his knees, positioning himself between Merlin’s thighs. And before Merlin could protest, he’d taken his cock into his mouth. Merlin immediately thrust up into Arthur, and he sucked him down easily. All it took was a few thrusts and then Merlin was coming too, groaning Arthur’s name as he did, and Arthur swallowed every last drop, swiping at his mouth when he pulled away.

“I’m so sorry for everything,” Merlin told him, pulling Arthur up for a kiss, which he gladly dove into.

“I know,” Arthur said, when they pulled apart a few moments later.

And because neither had the energy or the drive to get up and clean themselves, Merlin used magic to bring a wet neckerchief over to the bed. They fell asleep in each other’s arms, and that night, Arthur slept well.

* * *

Two days following Arthur’s arrival into Camelot, Uther Pendragon passed away.

A public ceremony was held for the deceased king the following day, to honour his life and death. And in spite of his endless years of persecution and prejudice, Arthur was amazed to see the outpouring of love and support from Camelot’s citizens for their king nonetheless. There was something reassuring in the knowledge that he was not despised by all, and it made Arthur feel better knowing that he hadn’t been the only person on earth to still love his father in spite of all his many flaws. Uther had, after all, brought peace and prosperity to the land, as he claimed he would, even if Arthur hadn’t agreed with his methods.

The coronation ceremony was held a day later.

As Merlin helped Arthur dress that day in the ceremonial robes, silence filled the space between them. Arthur was distracted, nerves frayed. He was still grieving for his father, didn’t quite feel he was ready to ascend to the throne, and yet he knew what he had to do anyway. Merlin’s deft fingers flying across his chest, back, shoulders, smoothing and patting and rearranging fabric helped soothe the anxiety coiling in his gut, but only barely.

Merlin finished with him long before he noticed that the hands had retreated, still buried in his own world, filled with questions and doubts and insecurities.

“ _Arthur_ ,” Merlin said, voice entreating and warm, with the barest hint of concern. He’d said a great deal with that single word, and it was enough to draw Arthur’s attention to the calm and familiar face standing before him.

But when their eyes met, Merlin remained quiet, just stared at Arthur, waiting... silently encouraging him. He could sense Arthur carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and it was Merlin’s way of asking him to share without forcing Arthur’s hand.

A few moments passed, while Arthur waged an internal debate, before he finally allowed the question that’d been plaguing his mind to slip past hesitant lips. “Merlin, do you think I have what it takes to become King?”

Merlin’s face broke into a grin instantly. “You’re going to be the best king Camelot has ever known,” he said, so sincere and with such strong conviction, that some of the tightness in Arthur’s chest unfurled. Even if he’d doubted Merlin’s confidence, Arthur could _feel_ it in Merlin’s heart, swelling and nearly ready to burst free, and it warmed him in ways he couldn’t put words to.

He opened his mouth to respond, but then there was a soft knock at the door.

“Enter,” Arthur called out as both he and Merlin turned to see who was there.

Gaius pushed the door open and stepped through the threshold, shutting it behind him. “Sire, I just came to let you know that they’re ready to begin the ceremony in the next ten minutes.”

The prince nodded, feeling his gut clench again in spite of himself, and before he could even make to move for the door, Merlin’s hands were on him once more, pressing against the fabric on his chest. Arthur wasn’t sure if Merlin was actually fixing something, or sensed that he needed calming again, but he suddenly had to hold back a smirk.

“Merlin, stop fussing,” Arthur chided, batting at his hands, but instead of letting go, Merlin tugged Arthur closer, pressing his soft lips to Arthur’s own.

He froze for a moment, the vague notion that Gaius was still in the room dancing around at the back of his mind, but he tossed aside the worry when Merlin nipped at his bottom lip, and responded in full to his gesture, one hand coming up to rest against the side of Merlin’s face. It was short and sweet, but full of both love and compassion, not inappropriate yet deep enough to make it obvious that this was not their first time.

When Merlin pulled away, he shot an encouraging smile at Arthur. “You’re going to be great,” he said, fingers uncurling and smoothing down the rich fabric he’d just wrinkled.

From over by the door, Gaius coughed, somewhat uncomfortable, and Merlin had the good graces to shoot him an appropriately sheepish smile. Arthur merely smirked to himself, ignoring the heat pricking at the back of his own neck.

“I suppose we should go,” he announced a moment later, pulling his shoulders back and standing tall.

Gaius nodded, reaching to open the doors for his soon-to-be king.

With a deep breath, Arthur reached for Merlin’s hand, squeezing gently with a thousand promises and assurances waiting to burst forth from the tip of his tongue. But Merlin didn’t need to hear them, because he already knew them all, could feel it with every fibre of his being. So, entwining their fingers, Arthur smiled at Merlin before following Gaius through his chamber doors, and together they walked to the coronation ceremony, hand in hand.

 

 **THE END**


End file.
